


make the world for you

by alnima



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Arguing, Banter, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, It's Zouis so it works, M/M, Past Zerrie -- but she's not in the fic, Post-Break Up, Rome - Freeform, Sexual Content, Travel, boys are idiots, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/pseuds/alnima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, right.” Louis rolls his eyes and stabs his finger into Zayn’s wrist. “You’ve gotten like, a million new tattoos since the break up.”</p><p>“So what? I’m always getting new tattoos.”</p><p>“You’ve dyed your hair,” Louis says and Zayn runs his hands nervously over the silver hair on top of his head. It wasn’t a drastic decision or anything. And he doesn’t need Louis calling him out on it. “Just trust me, Zayn. This trip will really do you some good, okay?”</p><p>Zayn looks at his best friend and looks at the bag on the ground. It’s a crazy idea, it’s rash and absurd but maybe Louis is right. Maybe a trip around the world is just what he needs to figure out how to be Zayn again. He’s not sure himself, not sure about getting on a plane for hours but… He sighs, shaking his head.</p><p>“Alright. Yeah, let’s do this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	make the world for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SavetheUmbrellas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavetheUmbrellas/gifts).



> SavetheUmbrellas, your prompts specified that any pairing would do, so I hope you actually meant that. This fic is inspired by a few things and I hope you like the way I interpreted your prompt, twists an all! 
> 
> Thank you to my beta, who doesn't like Zouis but reads it for me anyway. She's a gem. And to the mods of this exchange for being absolute angels and being so understanding. Just the sweetest and I appreciate it so much!
> 
> This was really fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy it. Sorry for any inaccuracies, I've only been to Rome once.
> 
> And heed the warning about boys being idiots

Zayn can’t get off this plane fast enough, at least not to his liking. Everyone around him is smiling, happy to be home or to be in the city for whatever reason, but Zayn’s annoyed.

He wants off this plane. He wants out of the airport. He wants to be back home, in his own bed. Or well, the bed in Harry’s apartment that he’s been sleeping in. He hasn’t slept in his own bed since the break up. And that’s fine. He really doesn’t care about where he sleeps as long as he can get off this plane.

“You’re holding up the line.”

“What line?” Zayn asks, turning around to glare at Louis. They’re some of the last people left on the plane and Zayn wants to take his sweet ass time, pulling his carry on out of the overhead compartment, struggling to get it thrown over his shoulder as he navigates the narrow passageway. And he would, believe him he would, if it weren’t for the people waiting beyond Louis.

“The line behind you, princess,” Louis says, yanking Zayn’s bag out of the overhead compartment and tossing it at Zayn before he grabs his own. Zayn stumbles, turning around and swinging the bag over his shoulder. He smirks when he hears Louis’ ‘ow’. Good. He hopes it left a bruise.

“I could report you, you know. For harassment and for assault. There are witnesses,” Louis says, pressing against Zayn’s back, his breath hot against Zayn’s ear.

“That might work, if you hadn’t been an insufferable ass the entirety of the flight.”

“I believe you started it, did you not?”

Zayn scoffs, ignoring the stewardthat is wishing him a good day. He tries to smile at him but he’s too busy wanting to rip Louis’ head off. He’s awful. He’s the worst person that Zayn’s ever known. And he’s known a few people.

Zayn chooses to ignore him though, moving through the airport. He’s going to get his bags and he’s going to go home. And then he’s going to forget who Louis Tomlinson is. As a matter of fact, he thinks, he’s going to delete his number from his phone right now. Now that he’s back home and he can use it without worrying about extra charges.

“It’s dead,” comes Louis’ voice, right next to his ear again as he crams onto the escalator next to Zayn. “Did you really expect it to hold a charge for a week? I told you that wouldn’t happen.”

“The absolute last person I want to be standing next to is you, so do you mind?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Louis says, pressing closer to Zayn, leaning his weight against him.

Zayn grits his teeth, shoving back against Louis. It goes back and forth like that, the two of them shoving and elbowing each other until they’re stumbling off the escalator, glaring as they both stomp off in the direction of baggage claim.

Louis leaves him alone, but Zayn can see him on the other side, arms folded and tapping his foot impatiently. Zayn has to clench his jaw and count backwards from ten to stop himself from screaming out across baggage claim, to start another fight with Louis. He hasn’t said enough, hasn’t vocalized everything that’s wrong with Louis like he wants to. And he does, god does he want to scream at that boy.

Instead he grabs his bag, ripping it off the belt and hurrying away. The sooner he gets out of here the sooner he can forget. The sooner he can pretend that he’s never had anyone in his life by the name of Louis.

Only. There’s a small problem.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Zayn curses, refraining from kicking at a bit of sidewalk. The wait for a cab is nearly a half hour, not long enough to really complain – it is the airport, after all – but that’s not really the problem. Zayn’s wallet is empty, void of the money that was there at the start of his trip. “Fucking Louis.”

Zayn curses his name and everything else that he can think of as he lugs his bag around the airport and towards the parking garage, where he knows Louis likely is. If he knows, which unfortunately he does, then Louis will be sitting behind the wheel, like a complete useless pile of skin and bones that he is, trying to find the perfect playlist for his drive home.

And he’s right. Louis is still sitting in his car, his head down as he tosses CD’s around. Zayn kicks the bumper, trying to get Louis’ attention.

“No,” Louis says, looking up at Zayn and shaking his head. “No.”

“I haven’t even said anything to you.”

“I don’t care. Go away. Just your presence is a no from me.”

“Well, tough shit because I don’t have any money and you’re giving me a ride home.”

“Like hell I am,” Louis shouts through the open window. “Get out of my way or else I’ll run you over.”

“The engine isn’t even on, Louis,” Zayn scoffs, shaking his head. He wheels his bag around, moving towards the backseat of Louis’ car to toss it inside. Instead of locking the doors like a normal person, Louis scrambles to get the key in the engine, like if he starts it then he can drive off. Well, tough luck, Zayn thinks, slamming the backseat shut right before he climbs inside. “Can you really not get the car started so we can leave? I’d rather not spend any more time with you than necessary, thanks.”

“Oh. Oh, oh,” Louis mutters under his breath, struggling to think of anything else to say. Zayn rolls his eyes. Figures.

+++

“Get out,” Louis says, leaning across Zayn to open the door for him. “Out. Everything. Your body and your bags, get them out of my car.”

“If you could move out of the way it would make it easier,” Zayn says, shoving at Louis’ back. “You’re lying across me.”

Louis grumbles under his breath as he sits up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Zayn pulls his seatbelt off and moves around the back of the car to pull his bag out. Louis is already fiddling with the radio, setting it on a station that’s playing…angry music. It’s just so angry, lots of shouting and Zayn knows nothing happy could come out of it and it makes him want to scream, want to tell Louis that’s another thing wrong with him.

But whatever.

Zayn’s barely pulled his bag out of the car and shut the door before Louis is driving off, his tires squealing in his wake. Zayn wants to shout something at him, to find a rock on the ground and throw it at his back window but he doesn’t. Instead he leans against the railing of the stairs outside his – Harry’s – building and breathes.

It feels like he hasn’t done that in ages, his body taut and tense. It’s been like that since the trip ended, since they decided to head home and call it over, the trip, their friendship, everything. Zayn releases a shaky breath, resting his hands on his thighs as he tries to get a hold of himself.

“You look worse for wear.”

Harry’s standing at the top of his stoop, arms folded as he holds the door open, smiling at him sadly. Zayn stands a little straighter at the sight of him, grabbing his bag and lugging it up the stairs to greet him. He pulls Harry into a hug, holding onto him tightly, his arms pinned to his sides.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. We’ll get you inside, get some food in ya and then we’ll lie down for a bit. Okay? You’ll be fine,” he promises, pulling away. He keeps a comforting hand on his back, guiding him up the stairs towards his place.

Zayn leans against him for support, grateful to be back with someone he can stand, with someone who can tolerate him as well.

“I was surprised to hear that you’d be coming back a day early. I mean, most people never want to come back from trips like that, although, it’s a bit understandable,” he says, and Zayn nods, doing his best to stay tuned in to what he’s saying. He is trying but he just doesn’t care. “You know, things will be fine now that you’re back home. I’ve made some soup, have a shower then eat some soup, you’ll feel better.”

He continues talking, idle babble that Zayn knows is meant to make him feel better, but instead it feels like his chest is caving in on him. Now that he’s off the plane and thrustback into reality he aches, from head to chest to feet. Everything hurts.

He pauses, leaning against the stairs as Harry keeps going. He grips onto the banister and breathes, trying to fight the prickling behind his eyes. He hasn’t cried, but he could. He has to squeeze his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. It’s dumb. It’s so stupid of him to be upset about this. Friendships fall apart everyday and Louis was an asshole, and it’s nothing to be this upset about.

But he is. God he is, no matter how much he’s held together until this point.

“Oh babe,” Harry says and Zayn feels him hugging him once more, holding onto him tightly. He rubs at his back, doing his best to soothe him. It really only works so much but he appreciates the effort. There’s only so much that can be done at this point.

+++

Louis’ limbs feel like lead as he drags himself into his apartment, tossing his bag to the side. He wants to sleep, wants to lie down and stay in bed for three weeks. He can hardly stand the thought of being awake any longer.

Niall’s sleeping on his couch – Bruce is with him, tucked around his legs and snoring – but Louis wasn’t expecting to see him until work the next day. He supposes Niall wanted to be here, wanted to be a supportive friend or something, if Louis had to guess. He mostly looks like he’s been using Louis’ place as a crash pad while he was away.

Whatever. Louis can’t find it in himself to care. He kicks off his shoes and flicks the lights off, dragging himself to his bedroom. He falls down on the bed with a sigh, curling under the blankets. He only relaxes a little bit. Of course he does. He’s never going to get the relief he wants just by lying down.

His phone is on his nightstand, just where he left it. It’s plugged in and Louis says a silent thank you to Niall for doing something right. There are texts from his mom wanting him to let her know when he gets back so he can hear about the trip, texts from his sisters and various friends. He ignores them all for now, moving to his voicemail to find almost every single person he knows has called him while he was away.

Not really, actually. But close enough. Louis listens to them all, making a note to call his mother when he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning inside of his own head, to call his landlord to apologize for the barking dog – which also means he has to remember to tell Niall off, because his only job was to keep Bruce company – and to finally to text Lou and apologize for the missed hair appointment.

There’s one voicemail that he knows doesn’t need a returned phone call or a text, the one from Zayn.

‘ _I’ve been thinking. I know you’re at home getting your bags and stuff, judging by the fact you’re not answering I’m betting you’re in the car. But I’ve been thinking, like, what if this trip isn’t that great of an idea after all? We haven’t planned anything and I know you want to help but what if—I don’t know. I guess I’m having second thoughts, I mean, I did just find out about it this morning. Call me back.’_

Louis chucks his phone across the room, listening as it collides with the wall with a satisfying thud. He shoves his face into the pillow and breathes, because fuck that voicemail.

Everything inside of him is pulsating, shaken with emotions at the sound of Zayn’s voice, at his worry that their trip wouldn’t be everything that Louis promised it would be. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t anything like what Louis told him it would be.

Louis keeps his eyes shut, breathing out slowly until he falls asleep.

+++

Niall doesn’t show Louis any sympathy when he drags him into work the next day. He wakes Louis in the early hours of the morning, with the help of Bruce. And when Louis whines that he doesn’t want to go, Niall rips the blankets off his body and pulls him out of bed by his ankles.

And whatever, Louis will go into the radio station and do what he needs to do. But he’s not going to be happy about it and he’s not going to be nice to anyone that tries to talk to him.

“He’s going through a thing,” Niall says as explanation, putting his arm around Louis’ shoulders and guiding him away from the intern at the water cooler. “Just get those reports to us, please.”

The intern nods and Louis glares at him, even though he really didn’t do anything. It’s not his fault that he bumped into Louis and nearly dumped a scolding cup of coffee on him, but still. Louis is going to blame everyone else for his bad mood and shitty life, for the awful situation that he finds himself in. And he’s going to start with that intern.

“He was giving me a look,” Louis mumbles.

“No, he wasn’t,” Niall says.

“Think he was,” Louis says, setting his jaw and looking over his shoulder, wanting to get another look at the intern. Niall’s hand comes up to his cheek, turning Louis’ gaze back ahead of them. “When do we filter these interns out? I’m ready for a new batch, a fresh set. These older ones are getting brave.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head as he pulls open the door to the booth. He guides Louis over to his chair, moving to start the computer and flip on the equipment. “That intern is going to bring you in the traffic reports for the hour. Can you cooperate with him long enough to take the paper or do I have to intercept it?”

“I’m fine,” Louis says, tapping his fingers against the desk. “If he wants to get brave then have him come in here.”

“Louis, are you being serious right now? I can’t tell.”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

Niall sighs and shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the desk. Louis ignores his pointed glares and focuses on the computer. It’s an easy job, giving out traffic reports for several hours and hitting play on the songs in between. And not even really hitting play on all of them, more so just making sure that they’re set to go after he does his reports.

It’s a shitty job and he knows it, but he’s paying his dues, doing what he can until he can land a job at the sports station across town. That’s where he really wants to be, where he really wants to go with his life.

There’s a knock on the door and Niall jumps up, moving to grab the paper from the intern before anything can happen. Good. That guy is shifty, Louis can tell.

“Alright, Louis. I know that you’ve got a lot going on right now. I know. You sounded like shit when you called from the airport over there, but I need you to focus,” Niall says, setting the paper down in front of Louis. “There’s not much happening, so it’ll be simple enough, but please do it right. The last thing you need to do is lose your job.”

“Why not lose one more thing,” Louis says bitterly, rubbing his thumb against his nose. “I mean I’ve already lost my best friend. So what the fuck does anything else matter. It’s ruined. Everything is ruined.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know that a lot, actually,” Louis tells him. “Everything about our trip went wrong. It was supposed to be fun, supposed to help him get over Perrie and realize that his life isn’t over just because he called that off. But that’s not at all what happened. And you wouldn’t think everything could be ruined between us, but it is.”

“Louis, there’s two minutes until you go on the air, can we do this later? I want to hear this, I do. And I want to help you, but like, we have to focus on the job right now.”

“I’m focused,” Louis says, patting the paper idly. “I’m in the zone.”

“Okay good, because it’s almost air time. And remember to remind people that Clark Street Bridge is closed for construction, they just shut it down last night and I’m not trying to deal with those calls.”

“I just can’t believe that after all these years of friendship it’s over. Is anything sacred anymore?” Louis asks and Niall sighs, shaking his head. “No, no. Hear me out, okay? Hear me out. We planned this trip, well I planned it. And it was really last minute, I know that, and organization could have been better, obviously. But I don’t understand where it all went wrong.”

“Louis, seriously man, there’s only fifty seconds ‘til airtime.”

Louis shakes his head, staring down at the desk in front of him and wondering if it can give him the answers. Because he needs them, he needs them and he wants them. Maybe if he gets the answers then he can move on from this, he can accept that he’s lost it all, lost his best friend and… more.

+++ DAYS EARLIER +++

Louis weaves through the crowd of the bar to get to his friends in the back. He can see Harry waving at him, trying to get Louis’ attention. He saw him when he walked in the door, but Louis likes to watch him embarrass himself so he lets it go, continuing his trek as Harry attracts the attention of almost all of the patrons, wondering who he’s waving to.

“Good evening, boys,” Louis says, sliding onto the stool that Harry’s pulled out for him. “And lady,” he adds, when Caroline steps up to the table. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

“Harry called me, he said it was an emergency. I didn’t realize the address he gave me led to a bar, though.”

“It is an emergency,” Harry says. “It’s about Zayn.”

Louis stills, fingers wrapping around Harry’s beer. “What happened to Zayn?”

“Nothing happened,” Niall clarifies quickly. “Harry’s just concerned about him.”

“I’m worried.”

“About what?” Caroline asks, sharing a look with Louis. He had just seen Zayn a few days prior, spoke to him about work and the new exhibition they’re working on and how one of the artists isn’t cooperating. So they spoke and Zayn was fine.

“It’s been a while since he’s left the apartment, is all. And like, It’s been a month since he broke up with Perrie so you’d think he’d be better by now, but I think he’s getting worse,” Harry explains.

“I just saw him the other day,” Louis says.

“When did you see him?”

“We got lunch at—“

“Exactly, you got lunch. When was the last time you saw him after work or on the weekends?”

Louis opens his mouth to say something, to tell Harry that he’s wrong, but then he realizes that he, in fact, hasn’t seen Zayn on the weekends or after work in ages. He’s tried to set something up but Zayn always has excuses, how he has to help Harry with things or work late and on the weekends at the museum.

“He said he’s been working.”

Caroline shakes her head, holding her hands up. “I don’t make him work weekends. I was working last Saturday and he wasn’t there.”

“But you make him work late.”

“I don’t do that either,” Caroline says, folding her arms over her chest. “Is that what he’s been telling you?”

“Yeah, he says that he’s working or that he’s busy helping Harry, which like. It makes sense; Harry gets needy and tries to steal all of Zayn’s attention from his other friends. Which. Whatever. He’s already living there, so what does it matter.”

“I don’t steal anything,” Harry says defensively, ripping his beer out of Louis’ hand. “And this isn’t about me, anyway. This is about Zayn.”

“Alright,” Niall says, cutting them off before an argument can start. “So Harry’s worried about Zayn because he doesn’t like that he’s never leaving the apartment. What exactly are we supposed to do about that? He’s a grown man.”

“I’m sure he’s gone out,” Caroline says.

“He hasn’t.”

Louis shakes his head, letting the three of them argue it out. He’s going right to the source. He pulls out his phone and dials Zayn’s number, pressing the phone to his ear. It rings twice and then stops. He frowns and tries again. Same thing, two rings and then it’s done.

“He’s ignoring my calls,” Louis mumbles. That’s fine, maybe he’s busy or on the toilet. Louis pulls open his text conversation with Zayn and types,

_boys night out w caroline, you coming?? we’re at crosbys_

“Are you texting him?” Niall asks.

“He didn’t answer my calls,” Louis says, frowning. The text says that it’s been read but Zayn’s not typing anything back. Which isn’t uncommon, Zayn is known to avoid texts when he wants to. But he always replies when he reads them. Louis knows he’s just being Zayn when he doesn’t read them and doesn’t reply, not when he reads them and doesn’t reply. This is odd.

“I told you something was wrong,” Harry says, nodding with an ugly sort of look on his face that Louis’ supposes translates to an _‘I told you so’_ face. “I don’t think he’s handling this break up as well as everyone thinks. I know he broke up with her and not like, the other way around. But I think that we should stage an intervention.”

“He doesn’t need an intervention,” Niall says, rolling his eyes. “If he’s upset then he’s upset. If he’s not…well, I don’t know. He’ll talk to us when he wants to. Let him know that we’re here for him but we don’t need to-“

“Force ourselves on him,” Caroline finishes. “And anyway, maybe he’s just being Zayn. Maybe he’s being reclusive.”

“No. I think something’s wrong,” Harry says, shaking his head at them.

“Both are possible,” Louis says.

“But what are we going to do.”

“We’re not going to do anything,” Caroline says, already standing to grab her jacket. “I’ll make a point to let Zayn know that I’m here for him, if something is wrong, but I’m not going to come up with a plan to save him. I’ll see you boys later.”

Caroline waves and walks off. Louis watches her go, checking his phone once more to see that Zayn still hasn’t replied to him, the little read sign telling him that he’s been ignored for nearly five minutes. And that’s fine. Zayn does that. He knows it, but Harry’s words are spreading through his mind and they’re not settling well. Something doesn’t feel right.

“She obviously doesn’t care about Zayn,” Harry says, nodding as he takes a drink. Louis rolls his eyes, snatching the beer out of his hand for himself. He’ll plan something. He’s Zayn’s best friend, after all.

+++

Zayn pulls the blankets tighter around his body, settling back against the couch with a sigh. He presses play on the remote, starting one of the DVD’s he found on Harry’s shelf. It’s one of the movies that make Harry weep and Zayn’s not sure why he wants to watch it. Normally these aren’t for him, but he’s alone and he’s tired and—It just feels right, okay. Zayn wants to lie on the couch, curled under a blanket to watch a movie that might make him cry.

He doesn’t know why he feels like crying. Well he does. But like, he would have thought that after a month he’d be fine. And it’s not like he’s not okay. He’s just not his best.

His sister once told him that the one who breaks up with the person goes through the break up differently, feeling fine and then slowly feeling more worse about it until they’re back to fine. He must be at the bottom of the emotional hill, if that’s true.

It was for the best that he and Perrie broke up, he knows that. He absolutely knows that, but lately he’s been feeling sad about the loss of it all, more so than when he first told her that it was the end, when she cried on him and he had to act like everything was fine.

It’s never easy cutting someone out of your life, Zayn learns. And whatever. He’ll be fine. He just wants to lie on the couch and watch weepy movies. It’s normal. He’s fine.

His phone rings from the across the room and he groans, getting up to go check who it is. It’s Louis and Zayn hits the decline button. He doesn’t want to deal with him right now. He’ll ruin his weepy movie night.

Louis texts immediately afterwards, _boys night out w caroline, you coming?? we’re at crosbys._ Zayn reads it and then closes out of it, setting his phone back down and returning to his place on the couch.

+++

Zayn jolts awake, his heart beating wildly in his chest as his bedroom door opens. Louis’ is standing in the doorway, shouting for him to get up.

“What the fuck, Lou,” Zayn mutters, tossing the blankets over his head and lying back down. It’s Sunday. He doesn’t have to wake up early. He can sleep all day if he wants to. And he’s going to talk to Harry about letting people into the apartment for him when he’s sleeping.

“Get up,” Louis repeats, tossing something heavy onto Zayn’s bed. It lands on his legs and he groans, rolling onto his back. “It’s time to pack.”

“Time to pack? What are you talking about?” Zayn asks, pushing the blankets out of his face. He props himself up on his elbows and watches as Louis raids his underwear drawer, tossing boxers and socks into the bag. “What are you doing with my stuff?”

“I told you. I’m packing.”

“For what?”

Louis sighs, dropping one last roll of socks into Zayn’s bag. “We’re going to Europe. I booked us a flight, it leaves tonight.”

Zayn rolls out of bed quickly, getting a head rush from how fast he stands. He’s not sure that he heard Louis correctly, because if he did then that means his friend is losing it. Really and truly losing it. And Zayn’s always questioned Louis, he is a bit odd sometimes, but booking a flight to Europe without telling Zayn? That’s not—That’s not. Actually it’s exactly like Louis.

“Louis, I have work. I have a job that I need to go to. I’m in the middle of planning an exhibition; do you honestly think that I can just leave?”

“I do,” Louis says, nodding. “I talked to Caroline and she said you’re free to go. We’re only going to be gone a week and she’ll take over what’s on your calendar for the week. Which, by the way, don’t act like it’s full. You have a staff meeting and lunch with three artists. If anyone can handle it, it’s Caroline, your boss. And all the little things, isn’t that why you have an assistant?”

“I guess but-“

“No. No buts.”

Zayn sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Who does this? Who plans random trips with no notice? Actually, no. Louis does. Louis is that person and he’s trying to drag Zayn along for the ride. “You talked to Caroline?”

“I did,” Louis confirms. “And she approved you for a lovely getaway with me, your travel companion.”

“Okay,” Zayn mumbles, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. It’s a lot to take in. They’re going to Europe for a week and Zayn’s only found out five minutes ago. His eyes have only been open for five minutes and he’s going to Europe. He’s leave the country and travelling thousands of miles, his very first flight. He guesses it’s a good thing Caroline made him get his passport years ago just in case he needed it to convince an artist that they should display in their museum. He’s never used it, not yet, so maybe the first time will be good with Louis, with his best friend, with someone that he loves and trusts. But he’s still confused. Still confused on why Louis is doing all this, so he asks, “Louis, what the hell is going on? Why are we leaving? Why did you plan this? Is it just like, a spur of the moment thing?”

“It’s kind of like that,” Louis mumbles. Zayn raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs, grabbing the suitcase and tossing it down on the floor. “Alright listen, so a week ago Harry tried to stage an intervention.”

“A what?”

“An intervention. He thinks that you’re not coping with you and Perrie’s break up very well. And I think he might be right. Or—No, hear me out,” Louis says, holding up a hand to stop Zayn from interrupting him. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re over it. I think you are, but I think you might be struggling with getting your footing, figuring out how to be just Zayn. Not Zayn and someone else. Zayn the boyfriend, but rather Zayn Malik, ya know?”

“Louis, I’m fine,” Zayn lies, even though the words that Louis speaks sound far more accurate then he’s willing to admit, even to himself. But leave it to his best friend to figure him out like some kind of emotional puzzle. “I am. I swear.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m going to pretend that I believe you, even though I don’t. But anyway, I think that the best way for you to do this is to get out into the world. And since our world right here isn’t working for you, we’re going to go across the world.”

“Louis,” Zayn says, laughing as he says it. “You come up with the craziest ideas.”

“Well, you’ve tried everything else,” he cries.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t tried anything.”

“Okay, right.” Louis rolls his eyes and stabs his finger into Zayn’s wrist. “You’ve gotten like, a million new tattoos since the break up.”

“So what? I’m always getting new tattoos.”

“You’ve dyed your hair,” Louis says and Zayn runs his hands nervously over the silverhair on top of his head. It wasn’t a drastic decision or anything. And he doesn’t need Louis calling him out on it. “Just trust me, Zayn. This trip will really do you some good, okay?”

Zayn looks at his best friend and looks at the bag on the ground. It’s a crazy idea, it’s rash and absurd but maybe Louis is right. Maybe a trip around the world is just what he needs to figure out how to be Zayn again. He’s not sure himself, not sure about getting on a plane for hours but… He sighs, shaking his head.

“Alright. Yeah, let’s do this.”

Louis grins, jumping on top of Zayn in happiness, happy to have gotten his way. Zayn laughs, wrapping his arms around Louis.

“I need to go home and get my bags. You finish packing, okay? I’ll get everything we need and meet you back here in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“You’re going to have a blast, Malik,” Louis promises. He smacks a kiss to Zayn’s cheek, pulling away to smile at him before he jumps off of Zayn, rushing out of the room to get started.

Zayn stares at his bag and thinks, here goes nothing.

+++

Zayn’s changed his mind. This is the worst idea that Louis has ever had.

The plane is smaller than he imagined it would be. And they’re sitting next to a window. Well, Louis is. Zayn flat out refused. But he can still see outside of it if he keeps his left eye open.

There are more people on here than necessary, just rows upon rows of people and Zayn knows that it’s not safe. He didn’t see a fire code posted on the wall, he tried looking, so he’s not sure the exact number of people that should be allowed on board, but it’s not this many. He knows that for a fact. He can tell.

And there’s a little girl in the seats in front of them, glaring at him through the gap. It’s unsettling, is what it is. There has to be some kind of bad omen about a child on a plane staring at you and wearing a purple sparkly dress. He’d look it up, but his phone is off and shoved into his bag placed above his head.

And that’s another thing about this plane. How can they allow all of these people on board and let them bring fifty million bags? It’s not safe and it’s putting more weight on the plane then necessary and he just knows that they’re not going to be able to take off.

“Will you relax,” Louis says, laughing next to Zayn. He places his hand on Zayn’s wrist, squeezing gently. “We’re fine. Everything is fine. You look like you’re ready to jump out of the emergency exit.”

“I’m just worried we won’t be able to take off,” Zayn says, glancing around for a flight attendant. They’re walking through the aisles, checking to make sure that everyone is buckled in since they’re about to take off. “There’s a lot of weight on this plane.”

“Enough that it’s not a problem. These things are made to accommodate large amounts of weight, Zayn. And besides, I think it’s like in the ocean, once you’re up in the air everything weighs like, four pounds or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how the ocean works, Louis.”

“And what do you know about the ocean?” Louis asks, making his face. “Exactly. You know nothing, just like you know nothing about flying. Where as I have been on a plane several times.”

“Congratulations, do you want some kind of prize?”

The plane shifts from underneath them and Zayn stills, gripping onto the arm rests. He glances around; checking to make sure that everyone else felt that. But no one is reacting to it and he’s not—He felt that. The plane jerks once more and then he sees land moving outside of Louis’ window.

“Lean back,” Louis tells him, patting Zayn’s wrist. “Just relax. It feels a little jerky at first and you’ll feel some pressure, but just relax. It’ll help.”

Zayn nods and presses back into his seat, turning his hand over so that he can intertwine his fingers with Louis’. He squeezes them, just like he did when they got their first tattoos and they were worried about the pain.

The plane picks up speed and he can feel the moment where they lift off, where they’re no longer on solid ground and his stomach clenches in anticipation. Louis leans across the seat and says, “This is the part where we do a loop-de-loop. It’s just to help us get in the air.” He illustrates his point with his finger, showing Zayn how they’ll do a circle in the sky.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zayn grits out, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and bracing himself for the moment where the plane flips upside down. He holds onto Louis’ hand as tight as he can, Louis’ laughter in his ear as they go higher and higher in the air.

+++

“I’m never flying with you again,” Zayn tells him for the fifth time in a row since the plane has landed. That doesn’t even count the amount of times he said it mid-flight, before Louis rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder and went to sleep, wrapping himself in the blanket he packed and telling Zayn to close his eyes.

“I know the loop-de-loop comment was mean, I get it. But you’re really going to have to stop blaming the turbulence on me, because that was out of my control.”

“You didn’t warn me about it, so therefore it’s your fault.”

“That’s flawed logic at best,” Louis tells him, shaking his head. Honestly he’s taught him better than that. Zayn should know how to make a solid argument by now, they’ve been friends for years. Louis lives to argue, it’s his thing. Zayn should have been taking notes. “Man this place is huge, look at all this space.”

“It’s not flawed logic, actually. First time flyer, Louis. First time flyer and you dragged me across the planet. You didn’t give me a warning about anything and you drooled on me,” Zayn huffs, glaring as he glances around. His eyes seem to go wide as he takes in the high ceilings with its wooden beams, curving and making for the most beautiful airport.

Louis hasn’t been in many, admittedly, but this is definitely at the top. The support beams are rainbow, for Christ’s sake. Everyone loves a rainbow. The colors change as they walk, Zayn no longer huffing in his ear about how he’s the cause of all the problems on the flight. Louis put up with it, Zayn’s his best friend, for one thing, and for another thing, he probably should have saved the jokes for another time. Maybe. The jury’s still out on that one.

They follow the crowd – and the signs – towards baggage claim. So far he likes Spain, thinks it’s going to be a great time if this airport is anything to go by, aside from the fact that everything is in Spanish. He’s not sure why he didn’t think about it, how neither of them speaks the language and that while the airport also has English on their signs, the rest of the country won’t.

And that’s fine, they’ll manage. People come to different countries all the time without speaking the language. They can turn it into a game of charades when they need something.

“Hey, how about you go and find someone to give us directions to our hotel?” Louis asks, turning towards Zayn.

“I don’t speak Spanish,” Zayn says and Louis shrugs, neither does he. “I don’t even know the name of our hotel, Louis. You didn’t give me much information about this trip.”

“Oh god, don’t start whining again. We’re officially on vacation and that means no whining allowed. I won’t allow it. And I won’t listen to it,” he says, pulling his bag off his shoulder and digging around in the small pocket. He knows that he wrote down the name of their hotel somewhere, on a little piece of paper or something. “Aha,” he mumbles, pulling out a receipt. “That’s the name and the address. I looked around a bit online; saw that it’s fairly easy to get to, so just find one of those people and have them tell you which train we should take.”

Zayn nods, taking the receipt from Louis. “We’ll meet back here, okay?” They’re just outside baggage claim so Louis nods, he’ll be able to get back here just fine.

They separate and do what they’re supposed to. Louis waits for his bag, watching as people gather theirs up and disappear through a door outside where a crowd is waiting, family and friends wanting to get to their loved ones. Louis finds himself watching them, lost in thought until he hears a throat clear behind him, and he turns, finding Zayn behind him with his hands on his hips.

“Where’s the bags?”

“Uh.” Louis glances around, smiling at Zayn when he sees that theirs are the only ones left to be collected. “There they are. Been waiting for them to come out. Guess you were the magic trick.”

“I’m sure,” Zayn mumbles, rolling his eyes at him.

“Did you get the directions?”

“Yeah, it’s a straight shot. Kind of. He wrote down the directions pretty detailed, so I don’t think we’ll get lost. We just take the train to another train, get on that train and then get off it and walk for a bit and we’ll be there.”

“Please tell me that’s not what he wrote on the paper.”

“No, he wrote down stops and streets. He pulled it up on a computer and wrote it all down. We’re fine, okay? I know where we’re going,” he says. “Now can you get your bag so that we can go?”

Getting to the hotel is just as easy as Zayn told him it would be. Taking one train and then another before walking several blocks until they’re there. Louis thinks it’s a sign of how well the trip is going to go. Their flight went smoothly – minus the turbulence and Zayn whining that he couldn’t sleep and that he really, really didn’t like the loop-de-loop comment – and the airport went smoothly and so did finding their hotel. Louis likes that, he likes it a lot, the odds that this is going to turn out to be one of the best trips of their lives.

Their hotel is nice, an older building that looks like a castle, if he’s ever seen one before. Or one of those places where he’d imagine gargoyles on top. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is with thick grey bricks and big white windows. The lobby is sleek and elegant, with large bouquets of flowers and polished floors and decorations that probably cost more than Louis’ rent.

“How much did this place cost?” Zayn asks breath against his ear as they move down the hallway towards their room.

“It really didn’t look like it would be that bad,” Louis explains. “It was modest, I swear.”

“I know you said it was nice but you didn’t tell me that I was going to go bankrupt before I can even open my wallet.”

“Lighten up,” Louis mumbles, smiling at a woman who walks passed them. He pulls his keycard out and shoves it into the slot on the door, turning the handle and waiting. “We’re here to have a good time. Stop worrying about silly little things like a fancy hotel.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Zayn mutters, smoothing his hands through his hair. He takes a deep breath and nods towards the door, silently telling Louis to open it.

“Oh my god,” Louis breathes, eyes going wide as he looks around. It’s the nicest room he’s ever been in, hands down. The bed is large and Louis feels giddy, reaching out to touch the smooth white walls, fingers wanting to touch everything that he can. The sleek black table and the paintings on the wall, the glass vase beside the television.

“Holy shit,” Zayn says and Louis turns to see him at the bed, running his hands along a silk bed scarf, staring at Louis with wide eyes. Louis raises an eyebrow at him, at the extravagance of this hotel. He knows neither of them has ever stayed in a place like this before. It’s out of their budget; it’s out of their…everything. There’s nothing about this place that screams Zayn and Louis.

They’ll have to change that.

Louis shoves Zayn first and jumps on the bed, grabbing one of the throw pillows and whacking Zayn with it as he joins him. They grab pillow after pillow, tossing them at each other as they jump on the bed like they’re five years old again, carefree and happy.

This feels like Zayn and Louis, jumping on a fancy bed until it’s messed up, until their legs hurt from jumping, their lungs hurt from laughing, and their cheeks ache from smiling at each other.

+++

“So where should we go first?” Zayn asks, flipping through some of the brochures and travel guides that the hotel provided. Listing attractions around Madrid that they can visit while they’re here, hot spots that most tourists like to look at. Louis doesn’t know a thing about Spain or what’s here, so he’s grateful that they’re offering them something.

“I don’t know, man. This is for you, remember? This is a ‘help Zayn get over his break up’ vacation, so whatever you want to do then I’m good with.”

“I told you I’m over it,” Zayn says, not bothering to look up from the pamphlet. “But whatever. If you’re not going to listen to me then it obviously doesn’t matter what I say. So yeah. I’m still hooked on Perrie.”

“Glad you can admit it,” Louis says, nodding as he turns to move into the bathroom. He’s still not done touching everything that he can, playing with it all so that he can figure out how it all works. Plus he wants a shower, needs one. He feels like he’s coated in grime from the airplane.

“I’m just telling you what you want to hear. Now tell me where you think we need to go first.”

“I don’t know, I’m not the one holding the stupid guide am I,” Louis shouts back, filtering his way through the complimentary bath products. He screws the lid off the soap and sniffs. It smells nice. “What do you think sounds good?”

“What if we go to the Temple of Debod? It apparently is nicer at night, with a view next to it. It’s in a park, so we can just walk around a bit and just relax for a while.”

“What is that?” Louis puts the shower cap on and makes faces in the mirror, eyes crossed and lips pulled down. He takes it off and tosses it on the floor, rubbing his fingers against the clean white towels. “Is that like, a grave or something? It doesn’t sound very exciting.”

“I don’t think so. It says that it’s an Ancient Egyptian temple that dismantled and then rebuilt here in Spain. That’s kind of cool, almost like we’re going to Egypt.”

“Unless they stole it. I bet they did,” Louis mutters, turning on and off the bathroom sink. The faucets are gold and ornate, far too fancy for a hotel. “I think this hotel used to be a house. Like, someone who was really, really rich and they got bored with it and donated it to a hotel chain.”

“That doesn’t happen, Louis. And the temple wasn’t stolen, it says it was donated in like, the 60’s. It doesn't say why, maybe we’ll learn while we’re there.”

“I don’t want to learn, this is a vacation.” He hears Zayn snort from inside the bedroom and he chooses to ignore it, instead he moves towards the shower, the sole reason that he even came into the bathroom in the first place. Or the reason he told Zayn, who has to be growing suspicious by the fact that the water hasn’t started yet.

Louis pulls back the shower curtain and nods. Nice. It’s huge. Louis could have a party inside of it and it’d be perfect. Well, maybe not a party. But a small get together. He should ask Zayn to join him, just to test that theory.

Louis turns the knob on the shower and nothing. He tries again. Still nothing. He tries to lift it up and push it down, tries to smack it and to rattle it a bit. Nothing works; the damn thing won’t turn on.

“Zayn, I need your help.”

“I’m not washing your back,” Zayn shouts.

“No, I can’t get the water started. I think the thing only works in Spanish. Figure out the word on in Spanish. I think it might be voice activated or something,” he says, turning the knob back and forth, still nothing.

“What’s the matter with it?” Zayn asks and this time his voice is closer, just a little bit behind him instead of in the bedroom. Louis smacks the knobs once more before stepping away.

“They don’t work. I knew this place was too good to be true. This is one of those—one of those fake showers. A show shower. They use it to impress the guests. I’m going to have to take a sponge bath in the sink, which means you will be washing my back.”

“Calm down. You know hotel showers have tricks to them,” Zayn says. “Step out of the way, let me do it.” He turns the knob to the right and then to the left. It doesn’t work. He frowns at it and Louis grins, wanting to say he told him so. He knew that wouldn’t work. “Just have to coax it, that’s all. No big deal.” He turns the knob again, this time slower. Then he tries it faster, and then he shakes it and pulls it and pushes until his cheeks are red. “What the fuck is wrong with this thing?”

“I told you, it only operates in Spanish. Shout on. Shout it in Spanish.”

“I don’t know—I can’t remember what it is.”

“On,” Louis hollers. “On in Spanish.”

“En. En, I think,” Zayn says and they both look, frowning when the showerhead doesn’t rain down on them.

“This is getting annoying,” Louis grits out, leaning over Zayn to whack at the knob. “Little fucker knows that I want to shower and it’s not working. I’m tired of being nice.”

“Louis, it’s not a person. Relax.”

Louis continues to hit it, taking off his shoe and beating the shower knob and the faucet repeatedly. Zayn watches for a minute before he joins in, grabbing them and tugging, pulling and pushing. Louis drops his shoe and joins him, placing his hands over Zayn’s. Maybe it just needs a little strength. They want it bad enough and Louis isn’t going to play sword in the stone with a fucking hotel shower in the middle of Spain.

There’s a loud groan and Louis grins, thinking that they’re finally getting the shower to life. The groaning keeps going and Louis can hear a rush of water before—

Water shoots out of the knob, hitting Zayn in the face. Louis’ mouth drops open as the knob falls off, one and then the other, water cascading out of them. That’s not supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be happening. Shit. Fuck.

“Make it stop,” Louis shouts, rushing towards the towels and grabbing on, he tosses it to Zayn before he grabs the knobs on the ground, trying to get them back on. “You broke it.”

“I didn't break it, you did.”

“No, you’re the one who came in here like a wild animal and broke the damn knobs off. Help me, before the place floods.”

“It won’t flood, there’s a drain in the floor; we’re fine.”

“Zayn, it’s spitting out onto the bathroom floor. There’s not a drain there. You need to help.”

“What do you want me to do,” Zayn shouts, taking the knob from Louis and trying to jam it onto the shower. The metal ring around it bursts off and more water comes spilling out, soaking their clothes and the shower floor, spilling over the edge and onto the ground.

Louis watches in horror as the little rug in front of the sink soaks, watches as Zayn scrambles to shove the knob on. Louis follows his movements, covering the hole with a towel.

“Louis, this isn’t good.”

“We need to get out of here. We need to check out. We can’t—shit. Fuck. We can’t stay here. They’ll sue us and take all our money, more so than they already have. Fancy as fuck castle with shitty pipes and—why is there so much water?”

“Because we turned it on, I think. We need to turn it off. Did you bring any pliers?”

“Oh yeah, let me just go into my suitcase and get something that the airport would think is a weapon. Yes, of course. Oh wait, I think I actually carry them in my pockets,” Louis says primly, right before he whacks Zayn on the shoulder. “No I don’t have a pair of fucking pliers. I wasn’t expecting to break any showers.”

“We need to call maintenance. Or the front desk, whatever. Someone. We need to notify them.”

“No,” Louis says stubbornly, wiping some of the water out of his eyes. It’s cold and his socks are soaked.

“Louis.”

“No.”

+++

The front desk is less than thrilled with them, tossing them out and refusing to give them a refund. It’s a compromise that they made, to make sure that Louis and Zayn wouldn’t have to pay them any extra money. Louis tried to fight it, but Zayn pinched his ear and then covered his mouth, agreeing to the ridiculous terms and conditions of their faulty shower destroying their hotel room. Zayn and Louis were innocent bystanders in the whole thing.

“Now what?” Zayn asks, leaning against the wall outside what used to be their hotel.

  
“Now that you’ve got us kicked out, where do we go?”

“The fuck out of here,” Louis mumbles. “I’m done with Spain. I’ve seen enough.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.”

“I am. I’m very serious, Zayn.”

“We’ve literally seen the airport, the train, another train, and this street. Oh yeah, and our hotel room. We’ve barely seen the city and you want to leave?”

“Exactly,” Louis says. He didn’t stutter and he’s pretty sure that he was clear about what he wanted. Zayn needs to learn to pay attention; obviously he’s having a hard time hearing if hethinks that leaving without a refund is a smart idea. “And you can see more of the city on our way to a car rental. We’re getting the fuck out of Madrid.”

“Are you being serious?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I just told you that I was. I am, in fact, very serious about leaving.”

“Then why’d we even come here?” Zayn cries, arms held out as he shouts at Louis. “Why did we waste money flying to Spain if you want to leave three seconds into the trip? I thought we came to have fun.”

“And we will, relax. Okay,” Louis says, stepping forward and resting his hand on Zayn’s arm, squeezing lightly. “This was always meant to be a transitional place, remember? We stay in Spain for a couple days and then we drive to Rome. Which was your idea, by the way. I wanted to fly but you said that it’d be nice to see more than just the tourist spots.”

Zayn sighs, his jaw still locked as he glares down the street, ignoring Louis.

“Everything will be fine in Rome, okay? That’s where the real trip starts,” Louis says. “We’ll find a car rental place, get a car and then start our road trip. We’ll find a place in France to sleep for the night, enjoy a little French breakfast, and maybe walk around town before we head towards Rome. Okay, art history buff?”

Zayn nods, turning to finally look at Louis again. Louis smiles at him, poking Zayn in the cheek until he grins back and then pretends to nip at his finger when Louis starts to get annoying. It’ll all work out, Louis is positive about that.

+++

“You know, I was thinking, what if we flew to Rome like you thought,” Zayn says. Ever since they got to the car rental place he’s been wondering if they’ve made the right decision.

“Zayn, we’re already here. They’re bringing us our car now. You watched me make a fool out of myself to get this car and now you’re changing your mind? Please tell me this is a joke.”

Zayn sighs and shrugs his shoulders. It’s not that he’s trying to make things complicated, he’s just been thinking. It’s more than Louis has been doing, it’s obvious that he thought this trip up in a matter of ten minutes and put it together in less. And that’s fine, Louis does everything spur of the moment and without any thought, Zayn’s used to it by now. He just wishes there were more order to this trip. More so that they hadn’t destroyed the bathroom of the first hotel they were supposed to stay in.

“Listen, Zayn. It’s just like what I told you before. Madrid was just a layover stop, nothing more. We’re going to get this car and go experience the wonders of Europe.”

“Yeah, but like. It’s almost eighteen hours until Rome.”

“Are you seriously being a party pooper this early in our trip?” Louis asks, eyes squinted in suspicion and Zayn sighs, shrugging once more. “Be honest with me, is that going to be an actual thing?”

Zayn holds his hands up and shakes his head. “No. I’ll be good, promise. I just don’t want anything else to go wrong.”

“It won’t, okay. Oh look there’s are—Wait. What is that?”

Zayn turns and sees what he assumes is supposed to be their car. It’s tiny, so impossibly small that Zayn’s not even sure that they’re both going to fit into it, let alone the two of them with their bags. There are two seats and next to no trunk space. They’re royally fucked on this one.

Louis argues with the employee for nearly an hour, shouting that this isn’t the car he wanted and that there is no way they’re going to take it from them. It’s pointless and in the time it takes for Louis to tire out and realize that this tiny silver car is theirs, Zayn has managed to get their bags stuffed into the trunk, which is a bit bigger than the outside lets on. It just takes a little skill, a little calculating on how Louis and his bag go on their side and their smaller ones, their carry-ons, go on top, also on their sides.

“Well, we’re stuck with this. I tried my hardest but I lost the battle,” Louis sighs, kicking the tire of the car. “It’s a clown car. It’s the smallest car in the world. I can’t believe it, but it is. We’ve found it. This is probably meant to be shoved into a space shuttle and taken to Mars on one of their missions. We’re driving a space car.”

Zayn laughs, full on laughs at his best friend’s antics. Louis glares, arms folded over his chest and Zayn laughs harder. It’s honestly the most ridiculous trip that’s ever happened to anyone in the world. Zayn wishes that he could say this was all fake, that he was actually wrapped in blankets on Harry’s couch back at home, dreaming this up in his sleep. But he’s not. They’re here in Spain with a tiny car after destroying a hotel bathroom.

“Why are you laughing?”

“This is the most ridiculous trip of my life. Of anyone’s life.”

“Yeah, laugh it up, Malik. Just keep on laughing, you’re not the one who has to drive this thing.”

+++

It takes seven hours to get to France. Seven hours of Spanish countryside before they see the little blue sign welcoming them into France. Louis woots as they cross the border, grabbing Zayn’s hand and shaking it around in the air, cheering. Zayn laughs with him, shouting out in excitement about being one step closer to their destination.

It’s not the best view, trapped on a highway situated between two rocky slopes. Zayn didn’t realize how mountainous this continent is, or how mountainous it looks from his place on the highway. But it’s nice to see the parts of the world that aren’t in the history books or online or in the tourist brochures.

Sure it’s just the view from the highway, just them and the mountains and trees other cars and bits of towns that they don’t have the time to visit. But it’s nice. It makes him feel like he’s experiencing so much.

“Everyone keeps passing us,” Louis says, for the eight-hundredth time since they’ve been in the damn car. “Every single car on this road is faster than us. Some of them probably left the same time we did, going from Madrid to Rome like we are, and I bet they’re already there.”

“It’s impossible to drive eighteen hours in just seven…no, eight now. Eight hours. It’s impossible. It literally can’t happen.”

“It can if your car isn’t a grandma car.”

“Maybe it’s not the car, maybe it’s you.”

“Are you—“ Louis falters, turning quickly to look at Zayn. “Are you trying to insult my driving? You can’t even drive, Zayn. You can’t drive and you’re insulting me?”

“I’m not insulting you; it’s just funny, is all.”

“You think it’s funny that we’re in the slowest car in Europe and we’ll never make it to Rome? That’s humorous to you?” “Louis asks, eyes still squinted as he stares at the road. “Because I’ll have you know, you could probably pull over and we can walk and make it there faster.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Zayn tells him, turning down the radio so that Louis will stop shouting at him.

“No, we’ll never make it. It drives a mile a day. One mile a day, that’s the average on this bad boy. We’re never going to make it to Rome. Trip cancelled. Might as well go home since it’s going to take us what…three years to get there?”

Zayn snorts and shakes his head, sitting up a little straighter. “Oh I’m Louis and I’m some big tough guy, big tough guy that needs a big man car to get me across Europe.”

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, looking at him once more. “Are you mocking me?”

“No, why would I mock you? I’m Louis. I’m the one that’s driving through Europe and complaining about my teeny tiny car. A little old lady car that takes four centuries to get across town. The last person who drove this roamed the Earth with the dinosaurs.”

“You’re mocking me. Okay. Two can play that game. I’m Zayn. Oh yeah I’m Zayn, I break showers and ruin hotels and then I’m completely useless on a road trip since I can’t drive at all.”

“Funny you should mention that, since I, Louis, am the one who took my shoe off to hit the shower knob with. Funny you should say that you broke it, when I, Louis, beat the shit out of a shower for not working.”

“You’re really not funny, you know,” Louis says and Zayn grins at him, all sweet and innocent, batting his eyelashes. “You’re not and I’m telling you that this—“

There’s a hiss and then gurgle, followed by a cloud of smoke coming out from under the hood. Zayn clutches the door handle, the other hand grabbing Louis’ arm as he watches the engine smoke.

“Oh my god,” Louis shouts, swerving the car. It dies just as they make it off the road, parked on the side of the highway in a country they’ve never been in, in the middle of the night. They haven’t seen cars for hours. It’s late and no one was stupid enough to drive, unlike them. They were going to find a place to sleep in an hour, halfway between point a and point b.

Louis turns the key in the ignition and listens as it stalls, trying to start but nothing happens. He slaps the steering wheel and then groans, tugging at his hair.

“I told you this car was a piece of shit.”

“You said it was small and slow, you didn’t say anything about the engine.”

“Oh. Sorry. Forgive me for not shoving my head under the hood of the car when I was too busy yelling at the employee to give us something better. I knew it was bad. I knew it. I told you to trust my instincts and did you? Did you listen to me? Did you think to trust me?”

“Call someone then. I’m sure they’ve got tow trucks in France.”

“I don’t have my phone, Zayn. I’m not paying international rates.”

Zayn groans and takes his seatbelt off, shifting around until he’s on his knees so that he can reach into the back of the car. He packed his cell in his carryon bag; all he needs to do is find it and Google a number to call. He’ll worry about the cost of it later, when he’s at home and he can force Louis to give him money for it.

“I don’t have any service. There’s no signal here,” Zayn sighs, tossing his phone down to the floor of the car. “Great. We’re stuck here.”

“You should turn that off, it’s not going to last a full charge while we’re here, it’ll die searching for signal.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Oh right, another case of not trusting Louis. Okay. Whatever let your phone die. I don’t care.”

“I’m not turning it off, Louis. We’re going to need it since we’re stranded. We’re stranded in fucking France.”

“Well you wanted to see Europe, Zayn, so here it is. We’re seeing it,” Louis says, holding his arms out and motioning around them. “Take a good look around because this is it.”

Zayn slaps Louis’ hand out of his face and glares. He takes a deep breath and shakes his body loose, trying to relax a little. It’s been a long day and he doesn’t need to make it worse. It’s just one of those days, one of those days where everything seems to go wrong but it’s fine. It’ll be fine. They just need to get somewhere where they can sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.

“Why don’t we check the map and see how far away we are from a town, okay?” Zayn says, grabbing the discarded map on the floor. He opens it up and tries to figure out where they are based on signs he remembers seeing a couple miles back. “We’re probably around here, I’d guess. Maybe a little bit away from it. It doesn’t seem like we’re in the middle of nowhere, so we could possibly get out and walk, try to find the nearest town.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Zayn. There’s nothing but open space around us,” Louis says, voice quiet as he leans back in his seat to look at Zayn. “We won’t be able to find a town tonight and even if we did, who’s to say anyone would be out at this time of night.”

“So we’re stuck here for the night?”

“Unfortunately yeah. Just you, me and our little grandma car.”

Zayn laughs but it’s empty. The situation isn’t funny, there’s nothing funny about being stranded on the side of the road but at least they’re together. They’re together and they’re alive and…they can make this work. It’ll be fine, so Zayn laughs. Fake it until he makes it…or whatever.

+++

There’s a crack of thunder overhead and then lightning strikes. It looks like it’s right in front of them, but it’s not. Zayn thinks it must have landed in the field to his right, somewhere off in the distance.

It’s been raining for a couple hours, he thinks. It started off as just a drizzle, little droplets landing on the window every few seconds but then as time has gone on, the rain came down harder and faster, accompanied by wind that makes it feel like their little car is going to take flight. Then the thunder came and the lightning, brightening up the night sky every few minutes.

Zayn can’t see anything when it happens, can’t see a town in the distance, houses, nothing. It’s just them. Just them and Mother Nature, who doesn’t seem very happy right now, if this storm is anything to go by.

Louis is sitting next to him, feet propped up on the dashboard, arms crossed over his chest as he hums under his breath. It’s been a difficult task trying to stay entertained since the car broke down. An absolute nightmare of a time, but they’re doing all right, Zayn thinks.

“Since we’re stuck here,” Louis says, opening his eyes to look at Zayn. “Why don’t we talk about Perrie?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, Lou,” Zayn says, shaking his head. “I know that’s why you brought me here, because you think I’m not over her, but I am. I just—I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you’re not doing okay, is the thing. Everyone notices it. I’m only sorry it took other people pointing it out for me to see it. I just thought—well, I thought you were busy. That’s what you always claimed.”

“And I am.”

“No, you’re not. You could probably have gotten away with it - since I know what you’re like when the museum needs to crack down to prepare for the next exhibition – if you weren’t living with Harry. He sees you, Zayn. He knows what’s going on with you. He told us how you barely get off the couch.”

“I just want to relax, that’s it. What’s so hard to understand about wanting to be alone for a little while, to just—to lie down on the couch and watch movies all night long?”

Louis shrugs, unfolding his arms to scratch at his jaw. “There’s nothing wrong with it, normally. But I don’t think that’s why you’re doing it.”

Zayn shakes his head and turns to look out his window. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t even know how. He doesn’t know what to say, not when he’s still trying to work out everything in his head. Three years is a long time to be with someone, he got used to it. He got used to always having her there and working his life around her. But that’s not the case anymore; he’s no longer Perrie’s boyfriend, he’s just Zayn. It’s just him and it’s hard trying to get his footing.

And he doesn’t know how to explain that to his friends, how to tell them that while he doesn’t want to be with her anymore, how he knows in his heart of hearts that he made the right choice for both their lives – she might not see it now, but he did – and even though he knows that, he’s struggling. He’s having a hard time adjusting.

It’s so different living with Harry, he’s never home and there’s not an army of animals greeting him. Harry cooks for him, or he tries to when he is home, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything to Zayn.

He’s just trying to get his footing, that’s all.

“I’m adjusting,” Zayn says finally, turning back to look at Louis. “I’m not in love with her anymore, that’s why I broke up with her. I don’t think she was in love with me anymore either, even if she didn’t realize it. I’m just—adjusting. Everything’s different and you know—”

“How well you handle that. Yeah. I know,” Louis says, curling a hand around Zayn’s arm. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re enjoying this thunderstorm in France. We got you away from it all and we’re going to have a blast, then we’ll get you back home and get you sorted, don’t worry about it.”

Zayn nods and pulls his arm up, grabbing onto Louis’ hand to hold onto him. Despite everything, Louis really is his best friend. He’s the best person that he knows and that’s what this trip is about. It’s not just about finding himself again but about the two of them, about their friendship and their bond, about how much Louis cares about him to drop everything and take him halfway across the world to get a little break. Even if the trip isn’t picture perfect, it’s something.

“Have you been with anyone since Perrie?” Louis asks and Zayn startles, eyes going wide.

“What?”

“Have you been with anyone since you broke up with Perrie?”

“I’m not answering that. What kind of question is that?”

“A very serious question, Zayn. And answer it. It’s just us, not like anyone is going to hear you.”

Zayn shakes his head. That’s not—no. He’s not going to answer that. It’s private. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“So you haven’t.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did,” Louis says, letting go of Zayn’s hand and dropping his feet back down on the floor of the car. He shifts around, pulling one leg under his butt as he turns to face Zayn fully. “Not telling me if you’ve had sex since your break up, tells me that you haven’t.”

“That’s not—“

“Just admit it. How long has it been?”

“When was the last time you had sex?” Zayn asks instead of answering. He’s not going to—It’s so embarrassingly long. Long before he and Perrie broke up. He can’t even remember—it’s been so long.

“I would say, roughly three—four months. A half-week if you count sex with myself.”

“You’re so gross,” Zayn mumbles, scratching at his nose and hoping that Louis will just drop the subject.

“And you?”

Zayn’s never had good luck.

He sighs and shrugs. “About the same, I think. More maybe. I stopped thinking about it. It’s been—yeah. Been a while.”

Louis nods, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Zayn watches him and waits, feeling as his nerves begin to pick up. He’s not really sure what Louis is thinking about or if he’s said too much. Louis wouldn't judge him about that, especially not when he’s in the same boat. Zayn’s not worried about that but Louis has this look on his face, which usually doesn’t translate well when he finally does talk again. That’s what Zayn’s worried about.

“What if we got off now?”

Zayn blinks and lightning strikes the ground outside, almost like in the movies, when someone comes up with a stupid idea and the forces of nature sound in the background, trying to warn him that this is a bad idea. It is. It’s totally a bad idea.

“Why would we—What? Louis, we’re trapped in a car.”

“Exactly. What better time than the present, yeah? No one is around, we’re alone, we’re bored, and neither of us have gotten off with the help of another in a very long time, almost too long. So this is really the best idea that I’ve had all day.”

“So because you’re bored, you want to fuck?”

“I didn’t say fuck. I said get off.”

“Is there really a difference, man?” Zayn asks, shaking his head. This day feels like a fever dream. None of this can actually be happening, it just can’t. This is an alternate reality and he’s going to wake up soon, probably in a coma somewhere where he’ll wake up laughing, cackling and scaring everyone around him because this is not real.

“The difference is that we’re not going to have _sex_ sex. Just…some sex.”

“Do you listen to yourself when you talk? Like, at all?”

“Yes, I do. And that’s exactly how I know that this is a good idea.”

“I’m not going to—Louis.”

“I’ll suck you off,” Louis offers and Zayn stills, his cock stirring in interest. That’s not—it’s not anything. It’s been ages, okay? It’s not Louis that’s making it happen, it’s the thought of a mouth wrapped around him, of the delicious heat enveloping him and oh god. “It sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?”

“Louis, this is like, the most—“

“The most best idea I’ve ever had, I know.”

“Tell me how this is a good idea. Just…give me some reasons.”

“Okay, so like, I don’t know. You get off, I get off,” he says, and yeah. That’s a good reason, definitely. His cock definitely likes the sound of that, but he’s trying so hard to pretend like he’s not half-hard just thinking about the possibility of getting sucked off. “I heard somewhere that the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else. So like, I don’t want to get under you when I suck you off, but it’s basically the same thing.”

“The best way to—“ Zayn shakes his head, laughing lightly. “Who told you that?”

“One Tree Hill.”

“The show?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, nodding enthusiastically. “I think we should test the theory out now, just to see if it’s right.”

“So you want to get off for science, or whatever?”

“Yeah, for science.”

Zayn bites down on his bottom lip and thinks. He’s not worried about what this will do for their friendship; they used to hook up ages ago, before he got with Perrie, just two friends helping each other out. So of course they can survive this, a little blow job isn’t anything. But god—they’re in a car. In France. They’re in a car in France in the middle of a thunderstorm, shouldn’t they wait? There has to be a better time, a time when Zayn has room to move his legs or—or something.

He breathes out and finds himself nodding. Who needs leg room, anyway? “Yeah. Alright. I mean, it’s for science. I can’t really say no to science, can I?”

Louis grins and pats Zayn’s thigh, he has to close his eyes and bite down on his lip to keep from making noise because it’s right next to his—

Zayn gasps when Louis hand cups him through his jeans, pressing his palm down flat and massaging, rubbing at his nearly hard dick. He has to close his eyes and bite down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out because shit.

“I’ve got you,” Louis mumbles, voice quiet against the storm raging on outside of the car. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” He runs his hand up along the seam of Zayn’s pants, unfastening the button and then slowly – so slow it’s almost torturous – he unzips the fly and then he stops, stroking his free hand along Zayn’s cheek until he opens his eyes to look at him. “Feel free to stop me whenever you want. Okay? Just tell me to stop if you’re comfortable.”

Zayn swallows and then nods, one hand clutching the armrest and the other hand clutching the door handle. He wets his lips and tries to say something but his mouth feels dry. His brain is too busy focusing on his dick and he can’t get words out, can’t tell Louis to just do it. To keep going, to please, please do this.

“Was that nod a yes, keep going. Or a no, please stop.”

“Keep. Go. Yeah,” Zayn says and Louis laughs, digging into Zayn’s pants and freeing his cock from his restraints. Zayn gasps at the touch and braces himself, pushing down on his feet and waiting.

Louis strokes him, hand moving along his cock, dragging his nail across the slit and working him into full hardness. Zayn brain is short-circuiting because that’s someone else’s hand on his cock. It’s someone else. It’s his best friend’s hand sending shivers down his spine as he moans out, closing his eyes and enjoying it.

It comes as a surprise, Louis’ tongue flicking out curiously against his slit, lapping at the pre-come that’s pooling there before he pulls away, licking along the vein to catch the pre-come that’s dribbling down the side. He swallows Zayn down after that, one hand planted firmly at the base while he sucks the head.

Zayn’s hips buck up on their own accord, seeking out the heat of Louis’ mouth.

“That’s good, Lou. Fuck,” he curses, biting down on his lip. He lets go of the arm rest and brushes his fingers along Louis’ cheek and up into his hair, gripping at it and pushing him down a little more, seeing how much of him Louis can take. “That’s it, Lou.”

Louis’ thin lips are stretched around him and Zayn had forgotten what that looked like, to see someone between his legs – or in this case, stretched out over the center console – and to feel wet heat around him. And Louis is good, so fucking good with the way he uses his hand and his tongue, the way he hollows out his cheeks and groans around Zayn, like he could get off just from having Zayn’s cock in his mouth.

“You look good like this, babe.” He tugs at Louis’ hair, forcing him to look at him, to pay attention to more than just his cock. “Feels good, Lou.”

Louis pulls off, a trail of spit and pre-come trailing out of his mouth. He strokes Zayn quickly, flicking the hair out of his eyes. “This is some trip, huh?” Louis asks, grinning at him before he swallows him once more.

Zayn’s hips jerk and he nods, head fuzzy. “Yeah, you sure know how to plan them.” He presses his head back against the head rest, fingers tightening in Louis’ hair and he’s never been more grateful for a broken down car and France before his life.

+++

A stroke of luck –and a very, very generous woman who found them in the morning – allows them to get their car towed to a small little building about twenty miles from where they spent the night. It’s one of the same places where they rented their car from, or it’s French counterpart. The company apologizes to them, swearing that they should have made sure this particular car was good for long distance travel. Or at least that’s what another customer tells them, who has to translate everything for them.

Louis doesn’t think it’s good enough, a simple ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please let us get you a new car’. Sure he had a great night, amazing night, actually, but that doesn’t change anything. Their car broke down. And who knows what would have happened to them if it were to been the middle of the day instead of the middle of the night.

They get the company to agree to rent them a car, but only so they can get to the airport and get the hell out of this country. Getting to Rome has never sounded so sweet.

Zayn sighs next to him and drops his head down on Louis’ shoulder, crossing his legs while they wait for their flight number to be called over the loud speaker. “Where are we going to stay when we get there?”

“We’ll find something,” Louis mumbles. The city is full of hotels, it’s not like they’re going to have to sleep out on the street.

“Should we talk to the hotel we’re supposed to stay in and see if they can take us in for a few more nights?”

“No, that place is ridiculously overpriced. I’m not putting anymore of my money into them. I won’t do it,” he says. He found the place last minute, one of the closest places to the city and while it is expensive, it’s also one of the cheapest places that he could find.

Zayn lifts his head up and looks at Louis, exasperation in his expression, like he’s not about to do this again. “I’ll pay the difference then, it’s fine. We’ll figure something out.”

“We will not do that. We’ll figure something else out.”

“What exactly is there to figure out? We have a hotel. We’ll stay there for a few extra days. If they can’t take us then we can ask them if they can suggest a place. If not, then we’ll figure it out. Not before.”

Louis has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes and sticking out his tongue like a petulant child. “I feel like this is becoming the theme of our trip, where I suggest something, then I beg you to trust me, you don’t, and everything goes wrong.”

“Not true. It was your idea to rent a car.”

“No, actually—“

“Stop. Stop,” Zayn says, interrupting Louis. Louis glares at him because rude. “I don’t want to argue about it.”

“Okay, then let’s compromise like adults,” Louis says, folding one leg over the other and straightening out his shirt. “We’ll do it my way.”

Zayn rests his elbows on his knees and rubs his face. Louis reaches around and pats him on the back. Sometimes it can be hard for people to accept that they’re wrong and their ideas are shit. It’s fine; Louis can give Zayn this time to grieve of his idiotic plan to spend all of Louis’ money on a hotel.

“I know where we can stay,” Zayn says, sitting up quickly, smashing Louis’ hand between his back and the chair.

“Oh,” Louis mumbles.

“Sorry.” Zayn sits up and Louis pulls his hand out, rubbing the sore knuckles. “Harry’s been here before. Or no, one of his friend’s has? I can’t remember. But I remember him talking about this place that they stayed in. We can stay there for the time being and then we’ll go check into our hotel.”

“It’s a good place?”

“Yeah, Harry raved about it. I remember him saying that it’s a little…not so pretty on the outside but it’s wonderful inside. It’ll get us through the next three nights.”

Louis finds himself nodding. He can trust Zayn on this one. Zayn trusted him to come to Europe so yeah. They’ll stay at Harry’s hotel and it’ll be fine. They’ll be able to finally start their Roman adventure.

+++

Italy is gorgeous. Louis’ breath catches in his throat as their bus rolls them into the city, stopping outside of an old, beautiful building in the middle of a crowded city. It feels like he stepped out of the present and stumbled into the past, the architecture older than anything he’s ever seen before. Back home everything is shining metal and sleek, hard lines, glass over every surface. It’s cold and unwelcoming. But not here, Louis feels like the city is wrapping its arms around him and pulling him, trapping him under his spell.

“It’s perfect,” Zayn breathes out next to him and Louis smiles, happy with himself and for Zayn. He’s been wanting to come here since Louis has known him, since he settled on art history as his major in school and saw the wonders of the world through his text book.

“Yeah, let’s find this hotel so that we can really see it. You have the directions, right?”

Zayn nods and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, one that an airport worker was kind enough to write up for them.

It takes them on a journey through the Roman underground, hopping from one busy train to the next. It’s not as clean as the trains in Spain, it’s crowded and Louis has someone’s elbow in his ear as they travel, the elbow ramming him in the head with every stop. But it’s not long before they’re stumbling out of it, following the crowd until they’re back under the Italian sun. It feels so good against his skin, so warm and it’s just what he needs.

“How much longer until we’re there?” Louis asks, dragging his bag behind him on the uneven sidewalk. Zayn’s holding the directions out of in front of him, paying close attention to the street names, so they don’t make any wrong turns and end up on the opposite side of town or something worse.

“We should be there soon, just a few—Actually no. This is it,” Zayn says, lifting his eyes away from the paper and towards the building in front of them.

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. This building is… Well rundown would be the nicest way to put it. Bits of the walls are falling off and the shutters are barely hanging on, like even they want to get away from this place. There’s a group of people sitting on the stares, tired looking and glaring at them. No. This can’t be right. Posh, spoiled, uptight Harry would never stay in a place like this. Zayn got it wrong. This is—“We can’t stay here.”

“No, shh. Come on,” Zayn says, grabbing Louis’ wrist and tugging him towards the building. “I told you that it wasn’t the best looking outside. Just trust me, okay? It’ll be fine. I trust Harry.”

“I don’t,” Louis mumbles, gripping onto his bag as they step inside.

It’s up six flights of stairs before they reach their floor. Apparently they’re staying in an apartment building where one man has converted each of the rooms of the apartment into different rooms, giving them each a lock so they can only be entered by key and calling it a hotel. Louis scoffs and doesn’t bother to hide it as they’re handed little stubs that’ll get them free breakfast at a little place up the road.

The inside is no better than the outside. The walls are crumbling; wallpaper peeling, and he can visibly see the layer of dust and grime coating everything. Their doorknob rattles as Zayn tries to get the key in, struggling with it and shaking the door. Louis hears a crack and they both freeze, looking around for the source of it.

“You heard that too?” Louis says, glancing around once more.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nothing, Zayn reasons, finally getting the door open. He holds it open and allows Louis to enter first. How generous of him, considering the roof is probably about to drop down on them any second. “This is—no. Zayn, no. We’re leaving. Fuck Harry and his recommendations. I’ll punch him in the mouth if he ever mentions another place again. We’re leaving.”

The bed isn’t even made; instead the top blanket is thrown over it like how Louis’ bed at home looks when he’s in a rush to leave for the morning. There’s a patched up hole in the wall next to his head and he can hear the couple in the next room talking perfectly, like they’re sitting on the little chair in their room, which is broken, one leg split in half and being held up by books. There are rips in the curtains and it smells. It smells like trash and like—rotting architecture.

“It has—“

“Diseases.”

“I was going to say character,” Zayn says, shutting the door behind him. It slams and a bit of the ceiling drops down, narrowly missing Zayn’s head. “Yeah. Character.”

Zayn looks at Louis and it sets him off, he opens his mouth and laughs, leaning against the thin wall for support as the laughter takes over his body. After a couple minutes Zayn laughs too, clutching his stomach and holding onto Louis, laughing because this really is the funniest thing in the world.

+++

They decide to stay in for the night, taking their time showering off their flight and the car ride and their other flight before they get into bed. It’s early, not too early that sleep isn’t an option, but too early for Louis. He likes staying up but he is tired, jetlag finally hitting him and wearing him down. He didn’t feel it before, too hyped up from all the chaos to realize just how tired he is, his body failing to adjust to the new time.

“This bed smells like cheese,” Zayn mumbles and Louis snorts, kicking him under the blanket. “I’m being serious. Like cheesy mothballs.”

“You’re an idiot,” Louis tells him, rolling onto his side to look at Zayn in the dark. He can see him a little bit, through the rips in their shitty curtains. “I’m going to give Harry so much shit for this when we get home, I hope you realize that.”

Zayn sighs. “Yeah and I don’t even blame you. What did he see in this place?”

“Are you sure that you even got the name right?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn laughs. “But I’d rather blame Harry, since he’s safe and happy in New York, probably just waking up and making himself a delicious breakfast.”

“Do you think the café will have anything good to eat? I’m kind of starving. There’s only so much airport food my stomach can take. I need a proper meal.”

“Yeah, I know, me too,” Zayn agrees, throwing an arm over his head as he stares up at the ceiling. It is cracking, like Louis first suspected it to be. He’s not sure if trying to get their door open did that, or if the feet they hear above them did. Either way, Louis is going to have to sleep with one eye open, just to make sure things hold together in the night.

The couple in the room next door is loud, talking passionately in a language Louis doesn’t understand. That’s all they do is talk and talk and talk, it’s starting to drive him crazy.

“Do you think they’ll ever fall asleep?” Louis asks and Zayn laughs, suddenly and with so much force that it forces a snort out of him. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting it. And I have no idea what they’re doing over there; it sounds like she’s angry? Do you think she’s angry?”

“I would be angry if my husband made me sleep here, assuming that they’re married.”

“I bet they are, they sound so familiar with each other, like they’ve known each other for ages.”

“We’ve known each other for ages, you think people think we’re married?”

“We might as well be,” Zayn says around a yawn, closing his eyes. “Caroline used to think we were dating, at least until she met Perrie. She lectured me about bringing my mistress to work, said it was bad for the museum if you ever found out and tried to start something.”

Louis giggles at that, imagining Caroline lecturing Zayn, something he’s never seen before. She’s always team Zayn, even when Louis tries to get her in on his pranks. She never budges but hearing now that she was once on Louis’ side…he likes that.

There’s bang from the next room and Louis jumps, putting his hand over his racing heart. He sits up on his elbow and looks down at Zayn, trying to focus his ears on the other room with the couple.

The sounds are muffled at best, like…like there’s a cloth being held over someone’s mouth. Oh god. Louis is witnessing a murder. He’s witnessing a murder in another country and they’re not going to let him go home until after a trial which could take years. He won’t be able to see his mom or his sisters or his—no one. He’ll never see them again because murder trials take ages and this is a crime of passion. Oh no. He’s clutching onto Zayn so tightly that he can hear Zayn whining for him to loosen up but he can’t, he’s so scared. So scared of what’s happening in the other—

There’s moan and then another bang and then another and another, all of them happening so quickly, one after the next after the next, pounding against the wall and Louis gasps, eyes going wide as he realizes what’s happening.

“They’re having sex,” Zayn whispers and Louis laughs, dropping down and shoving his face into Zayn’s shoulder, trying to hide the noise so that the couple can’t hear. Not like they care, obviously, since they have to know that the walls are thin and that everyone in the building can probably hear them.

“Is that what sex sounds like when you’re not the one having it?” Louis asks, resting his head on Zayn’s chest. He stretches his legs out to make himself more comfortable, curling around Zayn. “I don’t know if I like the sound of it.”

“Are you jealous that it’s not you this time?”

“Hell yeah I am. Why? You want to touch my cock again?”

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, carding his fingers through Louis’ hair. “Not tonight. I’m tired, wish I could sleep.”

“We’ll just have to wait it out, I guess.”

Louis jumps again when the bed frame slams into the wall, sending another bit of their ceiling crashing down on the floor next to them. All he can do is laugh, his face pressed into the fabric of Zayn’s shirt.

“Talk to me,” Zayn says. “Distract me from that so I don’t do something awful like get hard.”

“Your nipples are hard,” Louis observes, flicking at the protruding nub. Zayn grabs his wrist, pulling it away. Louis pouts because that’s not fair, he didn’t even get a chance to pull at it. “Alright fine. Although, I don’t know what to talk about, since we chose to talk about Perrie last night.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not talk about her again.”

“Are you sure? I really could listen to you, you know. I wouldn’t laugh and I certainly wouldn’t judge you about whatever you’re thinking or feeling. You know I can be serious when I need to be.”

“I know, Lou,” Zayn sighs, fingers moving once more in Louis’ hair, scratching pleasantly at his scalp. “And you know I trust you. I do, you’re my favorite person to talk to when things are wrong.”

“Then talk to me, please.”

“I already told you, Lou. I’m adjusting. You know how hard it is when these happen. You remember with Eleanor, yeah?”

Louis flinches at the name of his ex, having worked so hard to shove that all into the back of his mind. He doesn’t want that relationship anymore, it’s done and Eleanor is happy somewhere, wherever she is. It took time and he’s over it but he still feels the bitter stab of nostalgia – and possibly longing – in his chest when someone mentions her name, mentions what they once had. So he nods, because yeah. He knows what Zayn’s talking about and he gets it now, gets it better than he has before.

“So you’re okay?”

The headboard slams into the wall once more and they both break out in a fit of giggles. How can they have a serious conversation to the track of people having sex in the background?

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” Louis says, making no move to change his position. He’s happy and comfortable here, half lying on Zayn and stealing all his body heat.

“Yeah, we’re getting out of here first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Thank god,” Louis mumbles, letting his eyelids slip close. He focuses on the sound of Zayn breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and the pounding of his heart in Louis’ ear. He focuses on that, on the reassurance of having Zayn so close to him and finds his body getting heavy with sleep. Just before he drifts off, before sleep takes him, he hears Zayn mumble:

“And I’m okay, Louis. Don’t worry about me.”

+++

“This is so much nicer,” Zayn sighs, dropping down on the plush bed with his arms held out at his sides. After their night in the shittiest hotel in Rome, Louis had no problem splitting the bill for the extra days. The man at the front desk seemed enthusiastic about having them for a few extra nights, telling them how much he loves America and how he went to New York once, to see the Statue of Liberty. Zayn had smiled at him as he told the story, Louis at his side tapping his fingers against the desk impatiently. But they’re in now.

They’re finally going to be able to start their vacation. Or well, start it in a place where they’re not going to destroy the bathroom – that was the first thing Louis checked when they walked in, that the shower worked – and that the walls and ceiling are intact. Zayn can’t hear a thing except for the city around them and that’s only because the windows are open. It’s perfect.

A big bed on one side with a living area in front of it, two giant couches facing each other with a table in the center. There are real flowers in the vase on the table…real flowers. Louis has his face shoved in them, breathing them in and sighing contently.

“Hey, I found the pamphlet for room service, do you want to grab some lunch now instead of out there? I’m starving,” Zayn says, staring at the menu. His stomach churns in his stomach as he reads about food. The café that they ate at for breakfast was small and only offered them croissants; Zayn got a chocolate one and a tea. It was hardly enough.

“I want a pizza,” Louis says, pulling his face out of the flowers. “I want a giant pizza. We’re in Italy, give me a pizza!”

“I’m just going to get you a sandwich,” Zayn says, grabbing the phone. “You’d like the pizza more if it wasn’t made in a hotel kitchen. We’ll find something to satisfy you for dinner.”

Louis dives on the bed and pouts, playing with Zayn’s jeans as he orders the food. He’s told it’ll be up shortly and he thanks them, hanging up the phone and swatting at Louis’ wandering hand. He likes to be felt up on a full belly.

“What should we do first today? Should we just, you know, like travel around and see everything, then we can do some more in depth stuff tomorrow or what? What do you think?”

Louis shrugs and rolls onto his back, hands folded over his stomach as he stares at the ceiling.

“What’s here?”

“What’s here?” Zayn repeats, scoffing. “Everything is here, Louis. It’s Rome. There’s so much to see and to do.”

“What do you want to do most?”

Zayn bites down on his lip and thinks about it, thinks about his old art history textbooks and the places and pieces he’s only dreamed about seeing since he was seventeen and so desperate for more than what he had, when he wanted to see the world. He hasn’t seen much of it, but he’s here now, he’s with Louis and honestly, Zayn knows he’s such a history geek that just thinking about visiting these places is getting him so excited he might get a boner or something equally embarrassing.

Who gets hard thinking about history? Zayn. That’s who.

“What if we did something big today, like the Colosseum and the Forum. They’re right by each other. It’d be nice to you know, see something magnificent after the horrors we’ve had this trip, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Louis agrees, rolling onto his stomach and looking at Zayn. “We’ll hit up that and then I want to find a club. I want to see what the Roman nightlife has to offer. We can find you some sexy, Roman goddess – or god – to have a little fun with. What do you say?”

“I say that you don’t come to Rome to party, Louis.”

“We do. We came to do it all, to see the wonders of the world that get you all hot and bothered,” Louis says, walking his fingers up Zayn’s thigh towards his crotch. “And then we’ll find someone to help make it all better. You could have a fuck in a club bathroom. Cross that off the bucket list.”

“That’s not on my bucket list,” Zayn laughs, swatting at Louis’ hand once more. “It might be on yours, but it’s not on mine.”

“Alright, so maybe I’ll pick up a guy while we’re there. What does that matter? We’d both be having a good time,” Louis says. “Or we could have a threesome. That’d be fucking hot.”

“That’s definitely not happening.”

Louis pouts and turns back onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. “You’re ruining all my fun, Zayn.”

Zayn laughs and leans back, crossing his legs at the ankle and waiting. All he needs is food in his stomach and that’s it, the day can start.

+++

“Oh my god,” Zayn breathes out, clutching on the railing as he stares out at the Colosseum floor.

There’s no words to describe it, to describe what he’s feeling as he looks out at it. He can describe everything else, the people crowding around them to try and see what he’s seeing, the smell of the city, the goose bumps spreading across his skin. But he can’t find words to describe the magnificence before him.

The building has held together so well, for how old it is. He stands up on the ledge and tries to get a better view at the floor, the maze of underground chambers and tunnels, where people used to walk hundreds upon hundreds of years ago. He closes his eyes and tries to picture it, tries to see the people running around in a frenzy, moving swiftly before a fight on the main floor. He tries to picture the people sitting in their seats, stomping their feet and cheering, waiting for the show to start.

“You alright?” Louis asks, hand resting on Zayn’s elbow. Zayn opens his eyes and smiles at him, nodding.

“Yeah, I’m perfect. This is perfect.”

Louis smiles back and tugs on Zayn’s arm, pulling him away from the crowd. Zayn loops their arms together, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. He’s grateful for his friend, for this trip, but mostly for his friend. The line getting in was long and Louis is impatient. It wasn’t a good mix but he stuck it out, listening to Zayn as he told him the history of the building. About how they built it, what it was used for, how it became ruined, and what it used to look like in its former glory. And he also had to listen to Zayn rant about the assholes that carved their names into the walls. The thought sends off a spark of anger.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing it up higher,” Louis explains, rounding a corner and showing Zayn a staircase. It’s steep and worn, made of stone and Zayn holds onto Louis tightly, worried one of them might fall if they misstep.

They walk up as high as they can go, as high as they’ll allow, and then stop, finding a place away from everyone else to look, to really look at this place.

“It’s so amazing,” Zayn breathes out, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s held together so long. It’s been here, over a thousand years. Long. Almost two thousand. Or well, soon. Soon it’ll be two thousand. Can you believe it?”

“No, it’s pretty amazing,” Louis agrees.

“It’s been through so much. So many people have seen this place, Lou.”

“You can see a lot of the city too, out through those windows. I wonder if one of those gelato stands we passed is down there. I’d rather get it from a shop but man, it sounds so good.”

“They used to do fake sea battles in here, you know. Can you imagine this place filled with water, like a giant swimming bowl or something.”

“That guy looks like he’s ready to swim,” Louis snickers, tapping on Zayn’s shoulder and pointing out a man walking past them. He’s wearing those funky shoes, the kind that separates your toes. “I’ll never understand why people want to wear those things.”

Zayn looks at the shoes and then looks up at Louis, his head titled to the side. Louis’ eyes follow the man for a beat longer before he’s glancing around again, paying more attention to the people than to the—this masterpiece that they’re standing inside of. “You really don’t care about this.”

“Huh?” Louis says, turning to look at Zayn. “What’d you say? Care about what?”

“About this,” Zayn says, holding arms out wide to show off the Colosseum in all of its glory. “You don’t care about this, about life on this planet before we were here. I mean, Louis, shit. Did you even hear what I said? In almost fifty years this will be two thousand years old. Two thousand.”

“Yeah, I heard you say that.”

“Do you know how much life has passed through here? How many people have walked these halls? This is like—Louis, this is history. This is older than anything man-made we have back home, back in America. How can you not care about this?”

Louis scratches at his neck, his cheeks tinted pink as he shrugs. “I mean. It’s cool and all, like. I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to have seen this but like, this is your thing, you know? You’re the one who wanks to the history channel, not me.”

“I do not—“

“I don’t mean literally. I just mean, this is your shit. If we were in a soccer stadium then I’d be acting like you are now and you’d think I was out of my mind,” Louis says and Zayn shrugs because that might be a little bit accurate. “I promise that I’m enjoying myself, it’s just… All I know about this place is that people fought here. So it’s like, I’m seeing it, but I’m also kind of thinking why aren’t we at the beach…or whatever.”

Zayn nods and he thinks he gets it. He understands where Louis is coming from and why he’s not foaming at the mouth like Zayn is. He sighs and wraps his arm around Louis pulling him into his side.

“How about this, if you put up with my geeky tendencies for a little while longer, let us get through the Forum then we can go get dinner. You can pick, anywhere you want.”

Louis nods and rubs his hand along Zayn’s back. “Alright. We can do that,” he says and because he’s the best person that Zayn’s ever known, he adds, “Now tell me more about this place.”

“Right. Okay. It wasn’t always as great as what I’m making it out to be, you know. A lot of people died here. And animals, did you know that?” Zayn asks and Louis nods. “Yeah. I read somewhere that these fights sent some species into extinction.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Zayn admits, frowning as he stares at the floor down below. He hasn’t imagined that when he first got here. It’s kind of killing his imaginary boner, to remember the horrors within these walls. “I read another thing that said people would get upset about the elephants.”

“I thought they only fought lions here?”

“No, they fought everything here. Lions, elephants, hippos, giraffes, anything they could get their hands on.”

“Alright, let’s get a picture before you start crying,” Louis says, grabbing Zayn and turning him around. He pulls a small camera out of his pocket and holds it up in the air, his cheek presses against Zayn’s. Zayn closes his eyes and breathes out, trying to remind himself that it was a thousand years ago, there’s nothing he can do now. When he opens them he smiles, knowing that he’ll want the reminder of being able to see this great place, no matter the past of it.

+++

“Tell me this place has a better history,” Louis asks and Zayn watches as he runs his fingers along one of the old, crumbling structures as they walk up a hill.

“It used to be a marketplace,” Zayn tells him. “Or I guess the Ancient Roman equivalent to one.”

“So they sold like, food and stuff here?”

“Not here exactly,” Zayn says. “I believe it’s where we’re going, just a little bit away. But yeah, they sold food and other goods. I know that the Senate or, I think they called it that, used to meet here. Trials were held here. People were condemned for their crimes here. It’s kind of like… I guess you could say the Forum was kind of like downtown to them, everything happened here.”

“What does that mean?” Louis asks, laughing right before he stumbles, tripping over his feet on the incline. Zayn grabs him by the elbow, stopping him from hitting the ground. Louis smiles thankfully at him and continues on, his expression determined.

“This was the center of everything. I think I remember one of my professors calling it the heart of the Roman Empire.”

Louis nods, like he’s impressed. They reach the top and look out, breathing out a sigh of relief. The view is gorgeous from up here. Zayn can’t imagine what it was like before, to wake up every morning and to see this. Even now he can’t imagine, even though he doubts Roman citizens of today frequent the Forum like tourists do. Still, he thinks he would, if he lived here.

“It’s kind of nice up here,” Louis says, hands on his hips as he looks around. Zayn bumps his shoulder into the other boy’s, smiling at him. 

+++

Zayn finds a chair in the lobby of their hotel; it’s black and plush, velvet under his fingers with a back that goes up higher than his head. He feels regal sitting in this chair, his hands rested on the arms, like people should be here bowing to him, thanking him for allowing them to grace his presence. He snickers at the thought, the possibility of people in this hotel bowing to him. He doesn’t really want that, it’s just what the chair makes him feel.

Their hotel lobby is so nice it’s almost beyond his comprehension, with high, decorative ceilings. It makes him want to see the Sistine Chapel even more, to walk through the Vatican Museum to see the wonders of the ceilings. He’s seen them in photographs, heard stories of them, how breathtaking it is to see them in person.

This hotel doesn’t have a thing on that, he bets.

He sighs as he taps his foot on the marble floor, waiting for Louis to finish getting ready. He promised to meet him downstairs, said that he just needed to finish doing his hair before they could leave. But it’s taking forever. Louis doesn’t even have that much hair, Zayn thinks.

Whatever. He can try to be patient. Maybe.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Zayn shakes his head and motions for whomever it is to sit down, glancing at the staircase where Louis should be coming down any moment. He’s not, so Zayn sighs again.

“Sorry, do you not want me to sit here?”

“What?” Zayn turns to look at the man and blinks. He blinks again, unable to get his brain to function. This man is—well, he’s hot. Shit. His skin is sun-kissed, probably from the Roman sun, too many days spent on the beach or something. His eyes are deep, dark brown but warm, so warm and inviting, with little wrinkles at the corners from his smile. And his smile. Oh god he’s smiling at Zayn. “No, you can sit here.” Please.

“Thanks, not many places to sit this evening,” the man says, motioning around the lobby. It is crowded but not that badly, there are definitely places for the man to sit alone, away from anyone else. He must have wanted to sit here for a reason.

“Right, yeah. Kind of surprised people are here instead of out.”

The man shrugs. “It’s probably the free wifi,” he says, grinning as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Zayn didn’t know they had wifi. Shit, he should probably check his work emails to see if any of the artists have replied to him about the next exhibition, to see if his assistant has gone completely mad without him. The museum is probably falling apart. “I’m Liam.”

“Zayn,” he says, taking the man’s hand.

“So what brings you to Roma, Zayn?”

“I’m here with a friend. He sort of planned this last minute trip, supposed to be a European adventure.”

“Has it been?”

Zayn scoffs because adventure is a bit of an understatement, he thinks. This trip has been wild and out there and spontaneous and a disaster and perfect, all wrapped up and thrown at them. “It’s been fun so far, only been here a couple days, though.” It’s not a lie; it has been fun. However, he doesn’t think Liam needs to hear about all of their misfortunes.

Liam nods and smiles at him. It’s unnerving how much it sets Zayn at ease, the softness of it. “I’m here on business, trying to get some new clients. But once that’s over with, I think I’m going to stay. I haven’t seen much of the city.”

“Yeah, we’ve only really seen a bit of it. Not as much as I would have liked.”

“Are you a history buff or something?”

“Oh god,” Zayn mumbles, feeling the heat spread from his cheeks and down his neck. “I’m a curator for a museum back home. So like, this place is heaven to me.”

“You’re a curator?”

“Yeah, what about you?”

“Nothing that exciting, just your usual businessman.”

“I’m sure that’s exciting.”

Liam laughs and it’s pleasant, he enjoys the sound of it. “You’re far too kind, Zayn.”

He shrugs and goes back to watching the staircase, wondering what’s taking Louis so long. He feels bad that he doesn’t mind it anymore, doesn’t mind that his best friend is taking his time. Part of him wants Louis to take his time, to take even longer so he can sit with Liam and talk, find out more about him. He shouldn’t want that, not when he’s on a trip with his best friend, not when he’s away from home and likely to never see this man again. But god, he thinks he wants it so badly.

“How long do you and your friend plan to stay here?”

“Until the end of the week, I think. That’s the plan, anyway, but he could change his mind at any moment, knowing him. What about you?”

“Until I can get contracts signed, so for at least another week or two, I’d say.”

“How long have you been here?”

Liam laughs and shrugs, his eyes squinted. “I came up here last week, so longer than I intended, honestly. I mean, you know how these things go. I’m sure you guys work with contracts at the museums, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s usually not that difficult, most artists want to have their work featured in our exhibitions.”

“Most companies want to work with us; it’s the money that’s the problem.”

Zayn nods. Yeah, he knows what that can be like. Artists demanding to be paid for allowing their work to be featured in an exhibition, demanding more than a non-profit museum has to offer.

Liam looks down at the watch on his wrist, big and expensive and frowns, cursing under his breath. “Listen, I’ve got to be somewhere but I’d love to see you again, Zayn,” he says, standing up quickly. He shoves his phone into his pocket and offers Zayn a smile.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Zayn finds himself mumbling, watching Liam go.

+++

“Pizza on the first night, why am I not surprised?”

Louis grins and shrugs his shoulders, watching the people cook beyond Zayn’s shoulders. It’s a small place, cramped with tables. It’s mostly filled with locals, he thinks, judging by the way that the man near the door greets them all, friendly and familiar, unlike the professional way that he said hello to Zayn and Louis. The couple next to them brought a chessboard with them, laying it on the table and playing while they wait.

Behind Zayn there’s an open kitchen of sorts, with a wood burning stove that allows them the chance to watch their pizza being made. Louis is paying more attention to that then he is to Zayn.

“I met someone.”

That gets his attention. Louis’ neck almost snaps with how quickly he jerks his gaze back to Zayn. “Met someone? What does that mean?”

“While I was waiting for you in the lobby there was this guy.”

“What guy?”

“Another guest.”

“How do you know he was a guest?” Louis asks, frowning. He doesn’t like the sound of this guy. Yeah, no. This guy isn’t good news, he can tell. He can _feel_ it. His instincts are never wrong. Louis _knows_ people and he knows when they’re bad. This guy, whoever he is, is bad.

“I would assume he was a guest since he knew the lobby had free wifi.”

Louis nods. A likely excuse. “So what happened?”

Zayn’s lips twitch up in a smile and Louis rolls his eyes, grabbing his drink off the table and taking a sip of it.

“Well, I was waiting for you and he came and sat next to me. I think like, he chose to sit next to me on purpose, you know. There was a ton of places to sit but he was so cute. Oh god, so cute,” Zayn sighs wistfully, shaking his head at the memory of it. He wasn’t that cute, Louis is sure of it. “But we talked, you know a bit about our trips, why he’s here and how long he’s staying. He’s going to be here for the remainder of our trip.”

Louis hums, twining his fingers together and resting them under his chin. “Kind of sounds like a knob.”

“What?” No,” Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “He seemed really nice.”

Louis shrugs. He’s not convinced. Everything about this guy screams asshole. Stuck up, asshole. God, Louis already hates him and he hasn’t even met him. But it’s there, this grating on his nerves at just the thought of this guy trying to hit on Zayn. It’s not—It’s not because of what he’s doing but because of who he is. Louis doesn’t care if Zayn gets hit on. He doesn’t. Zayn’s hot; obviously he’s going to get hit on. Louis knows that. But this guy is such a tool.

“Who chats up a guy that’s on vacation? That’s just,” Louis pauses, shaking his head. “It’s fucked up. He seems like a perv.”

“How can you assume to know what he’s like when you don’t even know him?”

“I can tell these things, Zayn. I’m a people person, okay.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and Louis glares at him, mouth pulled in a tight line.

“Weren’t you just saying that we should go to a club or whatever to help me find someone to get under?”

“Yes. A club. A random person where I can be there to assess the situation to make sure things are okay. Where I can make sure you’re safe,” Louis explains. “And you know. No. No. Hooking up with a random is out the window. It’s gone.” He mimes crumbling up a piece of paper and tossing it over his shoulder. “It’s no more. We’re not doing that anymore.”

“Isn’t the point of this trip to help me get over Perrie?”

Zayn’s not going to throw that card at Louis. He won’t accept it. “You said you were over her.”

“I did and I am but—“

“No buts. None. I don’t want to hear them,” Louis says.

“No. You said that’s why we’re here so what if I just want to like, have some fun with that guy? I’m not saying I’m going to fall in love with him, but what if I just like, went out with him. You could shadow us, sit in the back of our restaurant and spy on us like you’re James Bond or something.”

“I’d want to sit at the table. James Bond does his dirty work up close.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of a cock block situation, man. If you want me to get under someone then I think you’re going to have to sit in the back.”

Louis frowns and stares at the table. It doesn’t—that doesn’t sit right with him. He can’t quite put his finger on it, on the angry, jealous, overwhelming feeling swirling around his gut but he has the sudden urge to scream no as loud as he can, to pick up his chair and chuck it in frustration.

He can’t figure it out, why it’s there or why he cares, but he does. He cares and Zayn getting under some guy is just—no. He doesn’t like it.

“All of this talk is going to ruin my pizza that’s on its way right now,” Louis says, unfolding his napkin and tossing it down on his lap, ending the conversation before it can go on any longer.

+++

Louis finds a club to go to after dinner. Of course he does. But that still doesn’t mean he wants Zayn to hook up with anyone, it’s just so they can have fun, just so that they can relax and have fun. Seeing Rome for the first time is fun but it’s not the same, it’s not the same kind of fun that they should be having as young, eligible bachelors on the other side of the world.

It’s a nice club, surprisingly. Louis had hoped it would be, being stuck waiting in line outside for as long as they did. It’s colorful and bright and the music is pulsing through his veins and fuck, he loves it.

“Come on, let’s get drinks,” Louis shouts, grabbing onto Zayn and tugging him through the crowd.

“Not that many,” Zayn says. “We need to be able to get home.”

“Nonsense,” Louis says, shaking his head. “We’re going to get spectacularly drunk and regret it in the morning when we’re dragging our feet and looking at history, seeing the way the Ancients lived.”

Zayn looks at Louis for a moment, obviously thinking about what they’re going to get themselves into and he knows that it’s been too long since Zayn has gone out like this. And what better way to get back out into the world than here, where they don’t know anyone and they can cut loose and have fun.

It’s perfect. Louis points to a random drink on the menu and holds up two fingers, letting the bartender know what he wants. He doesn’t care what it is as long as it’s strong. And it is, burning its way down his throat, making him cough when he sets the empty glass down.

“Bottoms up, Malik.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, looking at the brown liquid. “You made it look so convincing.”

“It’s good. It’s good. I’ll get more, you drink that.”

Louis turns away from him but he knows the second Zayn takes the drink because he coughs just like Louis did. He smiles, because yeah. It’s gonna be a good night.

It’s going to be the best night.

+++

It’s nearly three when they make it back to the hotel and Louis isn’t even an inch near sleepy. He’s wired, ready for more. He’s sobered up a bit, through the process of leaving the club and getting lost, walking around for nearly an hour before they found where they needed to go. So he’s not as drunk as he was and he’s not tired, but he finds himself lying in bed anyway. He’s on top of the blankets, clothes in a pile on the floor.

Zayn’s trying to step out of his clothes, his foot caught in the leg of his jeans. Louis laughs as he stumbles, falling on the bed with a groan before he finally gets his clothes on the floor.

“I think I should throw those pants away when we get home,” Zayn mumbles, rolling onto his back. His legs are still hanging off the side of the bed but he’s kind of on it, so Louis thinks he won the battle. Not the war, but the battle. “What should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Louis sighs, clapping his hands against the bed in boredom. “I’m like—ready. I’m ready to do something.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“We should do something.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. What should we do next?”

“I don’t know,” Louis says. “I’m never going to sleep. I’m wound up. I’m wound up tight like a coil or a spring. I think they’re the same thing, right? I don’t know. I’m just—I need to do something.”

Zayn hums, like he understands. “What if—no. I don’t know. What if we like, remember in the car?”

“The car?”

“In France.”

Louis’ eyebrows pull together as he thinks, trying to remember—Oh. Oh yeah, he remembers France. That was nice. That was perfect. Louis can’t think of anything better. Zayn said he wanted to get under someone and Louis can be that someone. He is that someone, the perfect someone for this. They’ve done this before so there won’t be any surprises, no worries. It’ll be perfect.

“So are you going to suck me off this time?” Louis asks and Zayn laughs, rolling onto his stomach to look at Louis. “I’m being serious.”

“You can suck me off and I’ll let you be on top.”

“Like on actual top or just like, you want me to suck you off and do all the work?”

“Does it really matter?” Zayn says, finally getting on the bed properly. He lies down next to Louis, resting his hand on Louis’ hip. His fingers move slowly, feather light touches along the skin that sends shivers down Louis’ spine. He shudders at the thought of what those hands can do, what they’ve done before. Maybe if he’s good, if he does what Zayn wants, if he cooperates then he can do what he wants next time. “So what do you say?”

Louis licks his lips. “Alright, yeah. Pants off, Malik. I need to go get stuff out of my bag.”

“Stuff.”

“ _The_ stuff,” Louis says, waggling his eyebrows before he rushes off. He had packed condoms and lube for other reasons, back when he thought Zayn finding a random was a good idea. Back when he thought that he wanted a random. But that’s not the case, his brain is just barely fuzzy from alcohol but he knows that this is what he wants. And he knows Zayn wouldn’t have offered unless he wanted the same thing. It works out perfectly.

When Louis gets back to the bed Zayn’s laying there, legs sprawled out as he strokes himself, eyes trained on Louis. If Louis had a camera he’d take a picture. He wants to remember this sight, wants to relive it for as long as he can.

Louis crawls between his legs and settles back on his back, ass resting on the balls of his feet.

“Sure this is what you want?”

“Positive,” Zayn breathes out, eyelids fluttering momentarily.

“What about that guy you met earlier?” Louis asks, trying to keep the jealousy or whatever out of his voice. “Sure you won’t be thinking about him?”

“Wouldn’t think about anyone else, Lou. Just you, alright?”

Louis nods and swats Zayn’s hand out of his way, wrapping his fist at the base. He keeps his grip firm around Zayn’s cock, stroking him carefully, teasing him while he finds a comfortable position. It’d be easier if Louis were the one on his back, then Zayn could fuck his mouth, do whatever he wants with it. This way Louis has to get creative because he’s lazy and he doesn’t want to bend down but he doesn’t want to change positions now.

Whatever, he can get over it, he thinks, especially if Zayn’s breath keeps hitching, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He lowers down slowly, taking a deep breath before he swallows Zayn down. His pre-come is bitter against his tongue, but he welcomes it, sucking Zayn down as deep as he can. Zayn chokes out above him, fingers gripping Louis’ hair. Louis pulls off quickly, wetting his hand with the spit and pre-come there, stroking Zayn quickly before he swallows him down again.

Louis strokes him, fist pumping furiously as he sucks at the head, tongue flicking out against his slit.

“Louis,” Zayn mumbles, tugging at his hair. It’s almost painful, his scalp stinging a bit. His hips jerk upwards, surprising Louis. “Louis.”

Louis hums around his cock, looking up at him as he takes him in deeper, feels when the head of Zayn’s cock collides with the back of his throat. He chokes and Zayn curses, gripping his hair and pulling him off.

“Fuck, I can’t,” Zayn stammers, breathing harshly. “Fuck. Louis. I was gonna come. I want—I want.”

“What do you want?” Louis asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Tell me what you want, Zayn.”

“Want you to fuck me,” he says and Louis groans, diving forward to capture Zayn in a kiss. He hasn’t kissed him in ages. They used to have a rule about it, no kissing, just fucking. It worked, or it used to. But fuck. Louis wants to kiss him, he wants and Zayn wants, because he’s kissing him back, tongue in Louis’ mouth as their teeth knock together.

It feels like this moment has been building up between them. It’s charged. Louis can’t explain it, doesn’t care to figure out, he just knows. He can feel it deep in his bones that so much of his life, of their lives together have been building up to this point. Building up to making out naked in a bed with the promise of sex.

“Get on your knees,” Louis says, pulling away from the kiss. He feels like his cock is going to burst. He doesn’t know when he got hard, somewhere between sucking Zayn and kissing, he’d imagine. He was too preoccupied with Zayn to know that this is a thing, that he’s hard and aching to come.

Zayn flips around as Louis slides out of his boxers and gets the condom on, coating his cock and then his fingers with lube. He didn’t think Zayn would listen but he did and Louis has to close his eyes to breathe. He’s not going to come from the sight of Zayn’s ass in the air, waiting for him. He’s not. He’s fucking not.

He leans forward and kisses the center of Zayn’s back. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Still want this with me?”

“Fuck, Louis. Come on.”

Louis laughs and circles his finger against Zayn’s rim, feeling him shudder before he pushes in. He takes his time with it, relishing in the noises that Zayn’s making beneath him.

When he’s three fingers deep, scissoring Zayn open, feeling Zayn quiver beneath him, watching his fingers clench the bed sheets, does Zayn cry out. “Come on, come on. Come on, Louis. I’m good. We’re good. Fuck, come on.”

“You’re impatient, aren’t you?”

“I told you what I want, Louis, now give it to me.”

Louis laughs because some things don’t change, like Zayn being bossy in bed. He remembers that vividly, remembers the time Zayn bent him over the kitchen table. His hips jerk involuntarily at the thought. Yeah. Yeah. He’s ready.

“Sorry, fuck. That was rude,” Zayn mumbles, followed by a whine when Louis pulls his fingers out. He grabs Zayn’s boxers and wipes his hands off. Whatever, they’re already dirty and then coats his cock again with lube. He scoots forward and breathes out, resting his hand at the small of Zayn’s back. “Louis.”

Louis nods and pushes down on Zayn’s back, forcing his ass up higher. He teases Zayn, rubbing the tip of his cock against Zayn’s rim, listening as Zayn whines for him to hurry up.

Louis pushes in and has to squeeze his eyes shut tight at the warm, tight feeling swallowing him. His brain short circuits, unable to process what’s happening. His cock is inside of Zayn. He’s inside of Zayn. Fuck.

Louis pauses and then pulls out, snapping his hips forward before Zayn can protest.

“Shit,” Zayn breathes, resting his head on his hands. “Fuck, so good. So fucking good, Lou.”

“You feel great, Zayn. So amazing. So tight and so…fuck, so fucking perfect.” He leans down and wraps his arm around Zayn’s stomach, pressing against his back as he fucks into him furiously, hips moving quickly.

“Come on, Louis. Harder, please.”

Louis obliges, following Zayn’s directions, going deeper and harder, wrapping his hand around Zayn’s cock and jerking him in time with his hips. Zayn’s moaning beneath him, holding onto the bed frame support.

He comes with a cry of Louis’ name, long and drawn out, spasming around Louis’ cock. Louis curses under his breath, feeling the familiar pull in his gut as he continues to fuck Zayn through the aftershocks, slowing down the movement of his hand; spreading Zayn’s come along his shaft.

Louis’ vision goes out momentarily when he comes, biting down on Zayn’s shoulder, the movement of his hips faltering as pleasure takes over his body. He feels like he’s floating for a second, unable to do anything except groan, listening to Zayn talk him through it.

Louis stays buried inside of Zayn for several minutes while they catch their breath. Zayn drops down on the bed, pulling Louis down on top of him. He’s dead weight and he knows that he should pull out so that he can lie down on his own side of the bed. They’re getting come on the blankets and Louis is going soft inside of Zayn but he can’t move. He literally can’t move.

“You were great,” Zayn says, turning his head to the side to smile at Louis. “You’re right; being under someone is fucking amazing. I forgot.”

“Glad I could remind you,” Louis says, finally pushing up on his hands so that he can pull out. He pulls the condom off and tosses it somewhere. He doesn’t even care. He’ll care later, when his limbs aren’t weak and he’s not sated and happy, finally feeling tired. “That was exactly what I needed.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zayn mumbles. He pats Louis on the side, rolling out of bed. Louis closes his eyes and listens to a door open and then the sound of running water.

When he gets back he crawls into bed, flicking off the light on the nightstand. He presses his back against Louis’ side, not wanting to cuddle but not wanting to be far from him. Louis gets it, feeling his eyelids get heavy.

Europe’s amazing, he thinks, wishing that he had the energy to get up and put something on. The night air is cool against his cock but it’s fine. Sleep, he needs sleep.

+++

The sun is warm against Zayn’s back when he wakes the next morning, groaning as he rolls onto his back. He startles when he bumps into Louis, who is slowly blinking awake himself. His head aches but it’s not the hangover he expected, more like he didn’t get enough sleep than he drank too much. Getting lost in Rome must have sobered him more than he thought.

“That was some night, huh,” Louis mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

Zayn laughs and nods, rubbing his face with his hands. Yeah. That. He wasn’t sure if Louis was going to acknowledge it or if they were just going to go about their life like they did after France.

“That alcohol was strong but it didn’t do shit. I don’t think they like being drunk here.”

“Or maybe we walked around for four years before we got here,” Zayn says, sitting up slowly. He realizes now that he’s still naked, both of them are. Whatever. He stands, not caring that Louis can see him and moves towards his bag, grabbing a clean pair of boxers out of it. He needs to shower and brush his teeth.

“Sex is pretty sobering,” Louis says, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. The blankets are pooled around his waist. Zayn can see the pale skin there, the bits of hair between his thighs. He blinks and moves towards the other room, grabbing a towel so that he’s not the only one completely exposed.

“You did say I should have sex this trip.”

“I did,” Louis says, nodding. “And like, you know. This is vacation so you’re supposed to do things out of the ordinary.”

“Not really that out of the ordinary for us.”

“Maybe not three years ago, but it is now,” Louis says and yeah. That part is true. It has been a while. Fuck, he almost forgot about that. Almost forgot how blurred the lines were between them, the line of friends and more. It was clear when he was with Perrie, clear about where they stood, where they needed to stand, but now… Now they can be anything they want to be, do anything they want to do. There’s no one there that’ll get hurt, no one stopping them.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to,” Zayn starts, scratching at the back of his neck. Louis looks at him, brow raised. “We’re on vacation, so like. What happens in Rome stays in Rome.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s that saying, Malik.”

“I think it’s whatever you want it to say. And I want it to say Rome.”

“Not New York?”

Zayn shrugs, looking at his nails. “We’re in Rome so let’s start with that, alright?”

“So you’d want to do it again?” Zayn sighs, trying to look nonchalant about it. Louis grins at that. “Say you’d want my cock, Zayn. I need to hear you say it for me to agree.”

“I’m not going to say that.”

“Say it.”

“No,” Zayn laughs, tossing his clean boxers at Louis. “But we could do it again. Like yeah. We could.”

“It’d be fun,” Louis says, tossing the boxers back. “Especially since like, since we’re away from home and everything. And you definitely needed to get under someone, just like I said. I saw you last night, practically begging for it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” Zayn shakes his head and turns around, walking away. He can hear Louis calling after him, shouting something about what happened last night. He’s not going to listen to it. He was there last night too, he remembers what he said and did, what he wanted.

Zayn starts the shower and tosses his towel down on the ground, laughing as he steps under the spray of the water. His mind drifts back to the guy in the lobby and he sighs at the loss, at the missed opportunity.

+++

They spend their morning visiting various sights, places you just glance at and spend a little time at. They go to the Altare della Patria, marveling at the details of the structure, at the columns and the statues. Then they stop at the Pantheon, walking around the inside of it and admiring the dome ceiling.

Their day of exploration is cut short, however, when Louis spots all the gelato places in the piazza. He bounces around like a child and Zayn is defenseless against it, giving in and dragging Louis down a side street, finally giving him what he’s been begging for.

“What kind did you get again?” Louis asks, licking at a bit of chocolate at the corner of his lips. “Oh god, this is good. We’re getting more tonight. I want gelato every day that we’re here.”

“I got strawberry,” Zayn says and Louis sticks his tongue out, shaking his head in disgust before he changes his mind and opens his mouth, silently asking for some. Zayn obliges, lifting up his tiny wooden spoon and passing him some. Louis tongues flicks out of his mouth, meeting the spoon and he frowns when he tastes it. “Shut up, it’s not that bad.”

“Chocolate is better. You want some?”

“No, I’m good. If we’re getting some of this everyday then I need to have some flavors left to try out.”

Louis laughs, knocking his elbow against Zayn’s. “That’s true. I think I want to try mint next, looked good in that tub.”

“Might try the hazelnut next. Or the pistachio, one of the nut flavors.” 

“You’re so boring, Zayn. Oh wow, look at that cat.”

Zayn follows Louis gaze to see what he’s talking about. It’s a little space on the other side of the side of the street, where it looks like an old building used to be, judging by the ruins that it’s perched on top of, staring lazily around like it doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Oh wow, there’s a ton of cats,” Louis says in excitement. “Come on, let’s go say hi.” He grabs Zayn’s arm and pulls him, dragging him across the street until they reach the clear, glasslike fence stopping them from reaching any of the cats. “Oh that’s some shit.”

“Wait. I know what this place is,” Zayn mumbles, glancing around. “Yeah. I know where we are.”

“Where are we?”

“Fuck, I can’t remember the name. Argentina something. Um.” Zayn shakes his head, trying to find the information stored in his brain. He knows this place. He does. Fuck, he knows it. “Largo di Torre Argentine,” he says triumphantly, grinning at Louis. He probably botched some of the words but he remembers. 

“So what it is besides home to cats?”

“Well, that’s pretty much what it is now. It’s a sanctuary for the strays. I think some of them might be feral.”

“They seem pretty nice,” Louis says, hanging over the side and trying to get the attention of a cat. “Aren’t feral cats like…well, aren’t they like lions, all mean and stuff.”

“It’s like a shelter. People take care of them so they’re used to people, they know who brings them their food.”

“So what was it before, it was obviously something in the past, judging by all those ruins.”

“It was just like a square, I think the theatre where Julius Caesar was killed was here. I’m not sure where, exactly, but there were various structures here. I think like, three or four buildings.”

“Rome is weird,” Louis mutters, standing up straight again and resuming his gelato. “So what do you want to do next?” 

“There’s an art museum around here that I want to check out, it’s filled with the work of the old masters. It’d be nice to see.” Louis pulls a face, shaking his head. “What? Where do you want to go?”

“The beach.” This time Zayn pulls a face. “Wouldn’t it be just as rewarding to say that we swam in the ocean in another country? Another continent at that. A lot of firsts, I think, for this trip.”

“Yeah, but like.”

“We can see the art another day. We don’t need to do that tonight.”

“I really want to go though, Lou.”

Louis glances around, biting his lip in thought. “Alright, what if we split up? You head to the museums, I’ll go to the beach, then we’ll meet back at the hotel for dinner, like eight-ish, to cover travel times. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know, Lou. We don’t know where we’re going. We don’t even speak the language.”

“Nonsense,” Louis says, waving him off. “We'll be fine. You know where you’re going, right? You’ve got a map in your pocket. We can go back to the hotel now and ask the people at the desk for directions. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

Zayn sighs and can immediately feel himself caving, can feel himself giving into Louis’ ideas like he always does. He nods, mostly to himself, even though he has a bad feeling about this. He can’t quite put his finger on it but it feels like… It just doesn’t feel right. No. He won’t think about it. It’ll be fine.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s head back to the hotel.”

+++

_The School of Athens_ is smaller than Zayn thought it would. It’s not small. It’s like, an entire wall in a very large room but it’s small. Kind of. Maybe it’s the enclosed space, or the large amount of people getting in his way. But it’s small. Smaller. But text books make everything appear smaller so Zayn shouldn’t be as surprised as he.

It’s just that he thought it would be bigger, grander.

It’s still nice, though. Zayn pats his sides, looking for his camera. He finds it in his pants pocket and grabs it, holding it up in the air. Someone steps in front of him, blocking his view. He lowers the camera and rolls his eyes, trying to side step the guy who’s in his way. He takes a step to the left and so does the guy. Then another and another and another, the guy following his every move, left and then right and back to left. Zayn’s starting to get annoyed. He just wants a picture, that’s all he wants, something to show Caroline and his mom, something other than Louis’ smiling face in front of everything.

“I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you didn’t recognize me.”

Zayn looks up and it’s Liam, the guy from the hotel lobby, the asshole who keeps trying to get in his way.

“Liam.”

“Yeah, sorry for getting in the way,” he says, stepping to the side. Zayn smirks at him and holds his camera up, snapping his picture quickly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Smaller than you thought, right? That’s not just me, right?”

Zayn stares at him, eyes wide as he takes Liam in. “Yeah, I was just thinking that before I took the picture.” He shakes his head, unable to hide the smile on his face. “I can’t believe you said that, I thought—I mean, I knew I couldn’t have been the only person to ever think it, I just didn’t think anyone would actually say it, least of all you.”

“Hmm, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Zayn laughs, forcing a smile out of Liam.

“Come on, you want to head to the next room?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Where’s your friend at?”

“Oh, he’s not really into all this stuff. History and art. He’s down at the beach, we decided to separate for the day, do our own things and then meet back up for dinner.”

“Ah, that sounds fun. Usually when people go on trips like this they’re too afraid to separate.” Zayn swallows, forcing a tight-lipped smile because that was him; he was the one afraid of what it would mean to separate from each other.

“What about you? Did your deal finally go through? Or no, were those contracts signed? Sorry, I don’t remember the details.”

“No, you’re fine. And they did, yeah. I’m a free man, free to do what I want.”

“And you came to the Vatican museums?”

“I did,” Liam says, nodding, thoughtfully, admiring a sculpture that they pass. “What does that say about us? That we chose to come here on our free days?”

“Louis would say that it means we’re boring,” Zayn answers, because he would. Zayn doesn’t think anything about this, he works with stuff like this for a living, this is in his bones, deep in his DNA. But it’s not in Liam’s, he can tell. It’s just…there for him. A place to be. Maybe he likes it, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he just wants to say that he came, say that he’s been here, and it’s fine. Maybe he’s here for religious reasons, Zayn’s not sure and he doesn’t care about his reason. His reason is his reason, but if Louis were here, Louis would say they were boring.

“Louis, is your friend, I’m assuming?” Zayn nods. “Well, it’s a good thing that he’s not here, isn’t it.”

They walk together through the halls, stopping occasionally to talk about a particular work. Sometimes they stop and sit down on a bench, resting their feet and getting their heads together, because it really is so overwhelming to experience so much so quickly.

Liam is nice. He went to school and double majored in business and marketing. He’s smart and filthy fucking rich, or so Zayn would think, judging by the expensive watch on his hand. It’s not even the watch he was wearing when they first met, but another one. Not that it matters. Zayn’s just…noticing. Liam, as fate would have it, lives in New York as well, but he spends most of his time flying around the globe.

Zayn listens in envy to his stories about going to Brazil and South Africa, to Toyko and Vienna. He’s been everywhere, constantly on the go.

And Liam listens as Zayn tells him about the museum, about the different artists that he’s been able to meet and paintings that he’s handled, famous ones that are seen around the world in books and in photographs.

The entrance into the next room is crowded and Zayn sighs, feeling impatient again. He wants to move, he wants to see things and these people are in his way. But when he gets into the room, he feels his breath leave his lungs.

“This is—“

“The Sistine Chapel, yeah. It’s marvelous, isn’t it,” Liam says next to him, head turned upwards towards the ceiling.

Zayn grabs his arm and holds on tight, allowing Liam to guide him around. He refuses to look at anything but the art, trying to take in as much as he can. This—this is just as grand as the books described it as, floor to ceiling fresco. It’s gorgeous. Words can’t even begin to describe what he’s seeing, how he feels.

Zayn closes his eyes and breathes in slowly, trying to picture what it was like to paint something like this, to have your work last for hundreds upon hundreds of years. He can’t imagine.

He blinks his eyes open slowly and Liam’s close, pressed against him and staring up at the ceiling. People are moving around them, gently shoving them around.

Liam really is beautiful, almost like the paintings around them. Michelangelo would have loved him, would have wanted to paint him for the centuries ahead to see, to adore.

Liam looks down slowly, smiling at Zayn and Zayn thinks that if this were a movie he’d kiss him, push up on his toes and wrap his arms around Liam’s neck.

It’s the first time he’s thought about kissing, properly kissing someone since Perrie. Maybe Louis was right; maybe this trip is exactly what he needed.

+++

Louis doesn’t actually go to the beach. He wants to, he thought about it, but instead he decided to stay in. It was last minute, halfway to the beach when he saw a couple shops and decided to grab some things for his sisters and brother. They’ll want souvenirs, proof of his trip. But then his arms are filled with bags and he only has one option, to go back to the hotel.

Zayn gets back shortly before eight, a dopey grin on his face as he tosses his things down on the little table.

“How was the beach?” Zayn asks, dropping down on the couch next to him, head turned to look at Louis.

“I didn’t go. I was halfway there, almost out of the city before I decided I wanted to do a bit of shopping instead, get the rugrats some presents so they’re not pissed when I get home.”

“Only you, Lou. Only you.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis mumbles, shrugging. “How was the art?”

“Amazing. Oh god, it was so amazing. Everything about this place is amazing. I still can’t believe we’re here.”

“I know, it’s great.”

“You’ve hardly seen all of its wonders.”

“That’s not true, we’ve been to a lot of places. And I even spent some time finding a few places on the map that I thought you might like, along with new places to eat.”

“So you were productive this afternoon.”

“I was. I even found time for both of us to fit the beach in our schedules. No, don’t roll your eyes at me,” Louis says, smacking Zayn’s shoulder lightly. “It’ll only be for a couple hours, just a few hours of relaxation, then we come back and go out to dinner. It’ll be nice, I promise. You need to see more to Rome than just the inside of these buildings.”

“Yeah, alright. You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“I’m always right, when will you learn to stop arguing that point.”

Zayn snorts as Louis stands, moving to grab a glass to fill with water. Zayn’s still staring where Louis once was, smiling fondly. Louis' stomach twists because that look, that look is for him. He frowns at his water and tries to squash it down, tries to not thinking about it. But Zayn looks fond, even still now that he’s turned to look at Louis. He looks happy and—and something else. Louis’ not sure what that emotion is. He’s seen it before, remembers the look from somewhere.

He sets his glass back down and moves towards the couch. He ignores the couch as a whole and chooses instead to sit on Zayn’s lap, straddling his hips.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks, holding onto his thighs.

“Who me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Nothing, just making myself comfortable.”

“Are you trying to get something out of this?”

“No. Never,” Louis says, shaking his head. Zayn squints his eyes at him and Louis grins, subtly moving his hips. Zayn grips onto his thighs, holding him still. “I’m being innocent.”

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Is that an insult?” Louis asks, rotating his hips again.

“It’s an observation, you can choose what you want from it.”

Louis is going to take it as a compliment. Zayn’s not complaining about him, not protesting the movement of his hips or the fact he’s on his lap at all. He’s considering this a win.

“I saw Liam today,” Zayn says and Louis frowns. He literally only knows one person on this side of the ocean. “The boy from the lobby the other night. We bumped into each other and then spent the day together. We saw all the art and then went and got gelato.”

“We got gelato already today,” Louis says, stilling the movement of his hips. “Why did you need more? What flavor did you get? What flavor did he get? No. I don’t care what he got. Don’t tell me.”

“He asked if I wanted to get some. We passed by a place on our way back, I had time to spare before meeting you, and so we stopped. I got hazelnut, it was actually pretty good.”

“I thought you wanted to get hazelnut with me?”

“I said I wanted to get it next time, so I did. I didn’t mention that it would be with you, we both just kind of assumed it would be.”

Louis nods, sucking his teeth in annoyance. “Are we really going to do this now?”

“Do what?” Zayn asks, confused, eyebrow raised as he looks at Louis. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you really going to tell me about your day with some guy while I’m in your lap? I’m literally on top of you right now, Zayn. Did you not feel what I was doing? Or what I was trying to do, before you started talking about some creep you met in the hotel lobby that stalks you?”

Zayn shakes his head, rolling his eyes. And no. Louis is not going to be looked at like that. He’s not wrong. He’s trying to initiate something, something they both agreed they wanted a few hours ago.

“What’s the big deal?” Zayn asks and he looks so confused, so utterly lost on why Louis is acting this way.

Louis looks at him and then it dawns on him. He’s such a fool. He climbs off Zayn slowly, moving around the room and grabbing his shoes, throwing them on. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep from saying anything. He gets it now. He gets why Zayn looked so fond and so happy, it’s not him, it’s fucking Liam. Whoever he is.

“Louis, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting the fuck out of here,” Louis spits out, grabbing his wallet. He checks to make sure he has money and his room key before he shoves it into his pocket, avoiding Zayn’s gaze.

“Louis, what did I do?” Zayn shouts after him and Louis ignores him, slamming the door as he goes.

He knows where he’s seen that look on Zayn’s face before, it was after he met Perrie, right before he cut things off with Louis the first time. He remembers it now, remembers the way his heart broke then. He had repressed it all, stomping it down so deep that he forget these feelings were there. He forgot how quickly Zayn fell for Perrie, how quickly their time together was cast aside, like it meant nothing. He forgot, but he remembers now. And he hates it. Hates that he does.

+++

Louis is angry, mostly with himself. And he needs a drink. Something strong and…yeah, strong. Stronger than what they had the other night. He doesn’t want to get back to the hotel sober, he wants to find a bar and stay there until they kick him out, until the owner calls a cab that takes him home. He doesn’t even know if this place has cabs. Maybe he’ll just sleep on the street, find a pretty fountain and curl up against it for the night.

The bar he finds isn’t as nice as the place he was with Zayn but he can hear English coming out of it and that’s what he needs, to finally be able to understand something.

He points at a drink on the menu and the bartender nods, turning away to make his drink. God, he hopes it’s strong, hopes he managed to find the strongest drink in the world.

He didn’t. Of fucking course he didn’t. The drink is pink and smells like melon, in a tiny cocktail glass with an orange on the side and yellow umbrella. Whatever. It’s alcohol; it’ll do the trick. Maybe he’ll have better luck picking out his next drink.

It’s good, though. So good and Louis surprises himself when he orders another, waving his hand around in a gesture he hopes says that he wants them to keep coming. He’ll get drunk off pink melon drink with fancy little umbrellas. It’s fine. He’s falling apart, might as well drink something fun so he can do it in style.

“You look thrilled to be drinking that,” a deep voice says.

Louis shrugs, lifting his glass to his lips and swallowing it down. He drains it and then looks at the man next to him. He’s tall and thin, sparkling hazel eyes and hair that stands tall, brown and wild. His skin is sun-kissed and he’s got freckles. Louis wants to flick him on the nose. He can’t explain why, he just does.

“Your drink is green, you don’t get to judge,” Louis says and the man laughs, slipping onto the barstool next to him.

“It’s an apple martini, that’s why it’s green.”

“Well, this is a—I’m not sure.”

“You know,” he says, reaching across Louis for the little menu sitting next to him. “If you had flipped it over to the other side, you’d have found the English side, giving you the chance to actually tell the man what you wanted.”

Louis narrows his eyes, snatching the menu out of his hands. Huh. He didn’t know that.

“I’m Nick.”

Louis looks at him, at the stupid boots on his feet and up to his messy hair. Whatever. He’s not bad. “Louis.”

“What brings you to Rome?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Louis says, tapping the bar for the bartender’s attention. He nods and Louis really wishes he knew the Italian translation for _please don't stop giving me drinks, keep them coming until I fall off this stool or try to take my pants off._

“That’s fine. We can talk about anything you want to talk about.”

“I want to get drunk. Can you help me with that?”

“I think I can, love. Might have to get you something stronger than that. And this,” he says, holding up his martini. “Have you eaten anything?”

“What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, I was thinking, we’ll go get a bite to eat then we’ll come back, get proper drunk and then you could take me back to your hotel. Or I could take you to mine, whatever you’re into.”

Louis is about to tell the guy to fuck off – he didn’t ask to be wined and dined, he asked to get drunk – when he sees Zayn walk passed the window of the bar. Louis’ mouth drops open when he sees that he’s not alone, that he’s with some guy. It has to be Liam, there’s no way that it’s anyone else and Louis sees red. He storms out of the hotel and Zayn goes to find his knight in shining armor obviously not giving a damn about Louis or where he went. He’s smiling, laughing at something the creep says.

“Do you know anyone named Liam?” Louis asks. Nick looks at him, his head cocked to the side. “Just answer the question. It’s very important. Do you know anyone named Liam?”

“Um, no?”

“Good,” Louis mutters, nodding. He grabs his glass from the bartender before he can set it down. “Pay for my drinks and then we can go,” he says. Nick nods; passing the bartender a bit of cash while Louis drains his drink.

“Should I be worried about how much you’re drinking?”

“No, but you should be worried about if I’m going to let this go anywhere besides dinner and drinks.”

“You wound me, Louis. I’m a great time, I’ll have you know.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “So far you’re getting on my nerves,” he says honestly. He’s annoyed and this guy is dragging out the process, making him wait to get drunk, the least he can do is keep his mouth shut.

“Cute and snarky, a man after my heart.”

Or keep complimenting him. Yeah, that’s what he can do.

“Is that why you came over here, because you think I’m cute?”

Nick’s cheeks pink, his fingers raking through his hair. “I had hoped you would be. You were a sight from behind, figured anyone with a body like yours has to be attractive.”

Louis wants to roll his eyes once more; this guy is putting it on thick, working so hard to get Louis interested. It’s actually kind of nice, to be wanted, to have someone want his attention and his alone, to be satisfied with just Louis.

“Alright, let’s get out of here, then.”

+++

Dinner with Nick doesn’t go as well as he thought it would. He keeps his eyes on Louis all night, his gaze never straying to anyone else. He takes him someplace fancy where they eat on a balcony next to the Colosseum, a place Zayn would have loved to eat at.

They eat pasta and Nick is—he’s nice and he’s funny, and for someone who is only looking for a one-nighter, he makes Louis feel good and special. It’s his charm, even if he does get on Louis’ nerves more than anything.

“So, you still want to get those drinks?” Nick asks.

Louis sighs and stares ahead, his eyes following a mother and her child. He’s not sure what he wants anymore, just knows that it’s not Nick. Now that he’s fed and calmed down a bit, he’s happy that he didn’t spend his night drunk in a bar. He went out, had a first date with someone in a foreign city. It was thrilling; he can understand the appeal, why Zayn is so drawn to Liam. But ultimately, it’s not what he wants. Not who he wants.

“I think I want to head back to my hotel, check in for the night. I’m kind of tired.”

“Right, yeah. Same here. Where are you staying? Maybe I could walk you back.” Louis tells him and Nick grins, bouncing on his toes a bit. “That’s where I’m staying.”

“No. No way.”

“Yeah, I could get my key out to show you, if you want.” He makes a show of patting his pockets and Louis shakes his head. No, he doesn’t need to see that. “Are you sure?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just laughs because how. How is this happening? Zayn found a guy from their hotel and now a guy from their hotel found him. He can’t believe it, honestly.

They get back to the hotel a little while later, Nick still trying his best to hit on Louis. He feels bad, a bit. A little bit. Not a lot. He’s just not interested. Or he is, kind of. It’s a bit confusing, really. He thinks he could want Nick, to have Nick drag him up to his room and have his way with him. God, the idea sounds so appealing. But there’s a little problem. Just a small one. And it goes by the name of Zayn.

Nick smiles at Louis as they reach the stairs, walking up them together.

“What floor are you on?” Nick asks, glancing at Louis quickly.

“Third.”

“Oh my god, me too,” he says and Louis shakes his head. He’s beginning to realize what a small world this is. He wonders if Liam is on their floor, if his room is next to theirs. He hopes it is, hopes he heard Zayn begging Louis to fuck him harder.

No, that’s not—no. He hopes Liam didn’t hear that. Zayn wouldn’t have wanted him to.

“Well, this is me,” Louis says, stopping outside his door. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, smiling at Louis. “You sure I can’t come in?”

Louis wants to say yes, wants to so badly but he’s not sure that he can. “Let me check something first, okay?” He turns his back on Nick and opens his door, peeking inside. No one’s here, the lights are off and when he flicks them on he sees that Zayn’s not even in bed.

“Yeah, you can come in,” he says, holding open the door. He kicks his shoes off, far more aggressive than he actually needs to. “Make yourself at home; I’m going to head into the bathroom real quick. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Nick says and Louis nods, smiling at him before he disappears.

Once in the bathroom he breathes, focuses on getting his heart to stop pounding in his chest. It’s just a boy in his hotel room, it’s not like he’s breaking the law. He splashes cold water on his face and runs his fingers through his hair, reminding himself once more that he’s allowed to do this. He’s not going to let it go anywhere far, he just wants—he just wants company. He wants someone here with him to keep his mind off the fact that Zayn’s out with some guy that he wants to get under, some guy who captured his attention at first glance, more than Louis has been able to do in all their years of friendship.

“What the fuck,” Louis shouts when he steps out of the bathroom, covering his eyes. “Why are you naked?”He shifts his hand around, trying to cover Nick’s bottom half from view, covering everything but his face. That’s all he wants to see, just his annoying face. “And why are you smiling, what the fuck is going on?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this why you agreed to let me in here?”

“What? No. I wanted to talk, to hang out. I didn’t want you to have your naked ass on my couch.”

“I thought—Wait. Isn’t that why we went to dinner? I said that at the bar. I said we’d go eat dinner, then we’d get drinks, and then we’d come back here, if you wanted.”

“Right and I didn’t agree to anything but dinner. Inviting you in my room doesn’t mean I want you naked. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me.”

“You’re naked on my couch, I’m pretty sure there is a lot wrong with you.”

“So you really don’t want to do this?”

“No, why do you think I’ve got my hand out blocking your dick from my eyes. Get dressed. Put your clothes on.”

Nick sighs and moves around, not looking embarrassed enough for Louis’ liking. He should be embarrassed, who the hell strips down while a stranger is in the bathroom and then lies on their couch, one leg throw over the back. Louis didn’t ask to be scared tonight. He asked to get drunk, this would make sense if they had gotten drunk, then maybe he might have reacted better.

“Right, sorry about that,” Nick mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. “Alright, you wanted to hang out, let’s hang out.”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. He stops across the room and yanks the door open, motioning for Nick to walk through it. “You’re leaving. You’re not staying here. I’m not risking you wiping your snake out again, leave my room.”

“Louis, I’m sorry. That was—I thought that’s what you wanted, honestly. I thought that’s why you were inviting me in.”

“Well you thought wrong, now get out.”

Nick sighs and nods his head, pushing up on his knees and standing. He tries to say something to Louis before he leaves but Louis puts a hand on his back and shoves, helping to guide him out of the room.

“Holy shit,” Louis mumbles, sliding down to the floor, his back against the door. He rests his head against his knees and breathes out, wondering what the hell is going on in his life anymore.

All he can do is laugh, so he does, cackling madly to himself in his empty hotel room.

+++

Zayn stares at the door after Louis slams it shut, dumbfounded and confused. He’s angry, obviously. But why? What had Zayn said, what had he done besides tell Louis about his day. But he’s angry, so angry and Zayn doesn’t know what to do about it, doesn’t know how to apologize for something he doesn’t understand.

The only thing Zayn knows is that he shouldn’t run after him. Louis needs time; he needs time to process it and to come down from it all. Zayn needs to give him that.

Zayn sighs and stands up, grabbing his things and heading out of the room. Maybe a bit of fresh air will help him think; help him figure out what’s going on with Louis.

He’s rushing down the stairs of the hotel when he knocks into someone, nearly losing his balance. Someone has a grip on his arm, keeping him from tumbling down the stairs.

“Thanks,” Zayn mutters and then startles when his eyes connect with Liam’s. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, just getting back from dinner. You going back out?”

Zayn nods, looking at Liam and then around the lobby. Louis isn’t here, not sitting in any of the seats or standing outside. He must have gone on a walk or something to clear his head. “Yeah, I was going to go for a walk. Do you—Are you busy?”

“No, I was going to head to my room for the night. Why? Would you like company?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.” He smiles and Liam smiles back at him, motioning for Zayn to lead the way.

He doesn’t know where he’s going; he just knows that he wants to go. If he stays in the room then he’ll worry, he’ll pace, and he’ll drive himself crazy wondering what’s going on with Louis. He doesn’t want that. Louis will tell him eventually; he’ll come back and talk to Zayn about what he’s thinking and what he’s feeling, after he decides if it’s something he should waste the energy on.

Louis gets angry, of course he does, he’s only human. But he has a tendency to get angry about things that don’t matter, trivial things that he’ll laugh about later. He also has a tendency to get so angry that he hurts, that he locks it all up so tight inside that Zayn has to pull it out of him.

He doesn’t know which one of these it is this time, so he’ll let Louis figure it out.

Liam ends up guiding him towards Trevi Fountain where they find a place on the crowded steps to talk.

“Are you sure that everything’s okay?” Liam asks, hands rubbing his knees.

“Yeah, it’s fine, just admiring the view.”

“Of me or the fountain?” Liam asks and then immediately starts laughing. “Sorry, that was so cheesy. I was only kidding. It’s a gorgeous fountain.”

“It is. I almost forgot it was here, actually,” Zayn admits, squinting as he stares at a child leaning over the edge, dipping her hands in the water. “Louis and I got a map at the hotel, one that points out all the things people usually want to see. I guess we both saw fountain and just decided it wasn’t anything. Or that’s what he did, since he spent the afternoon picking out places to go.”

“Is he at one of those places now?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I don’t know.” Liam shrugs. “Just kind of strange how you came together but you’re always apart.”

“We’re not apart. Not always.”

“I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Liam says, holding his hands up. “I was just wondering. I’ve bumped into you a few times, haven’t met him yet.”

“You will,” Zayn says. He doesn’t know if it’s true but it’s something that he can say without really worrying about the validity of it. He’s not in Rome for much longer, a few more days and if Liam and Louis meet…well, then they meet. “So have you decided on a day for when you want to go home?”

“I’m here for another week, then going to Florence. I’m flying my parents and my sisters out, going to do a family holiday. I haven’t seen them in a while so I thought it might be nice.”

“That does sound nice. I wish I could take my family some place like this. They’d love it.”

Liam smiles at him and nods, looking out at the fountain. “Come on, let’s toss a coin in.”

“Toss a coin in?”

“Yeah, it’s tradition. Everyone does it, let’s go.” Liam grabs his arm and tugs him up, grinning at him as they navigate the crowd and find an open space along the edge of the fountain. Liam digs around in his pocket and produces a handful of coins. “I read somewhere that tossing a coin in the fountain brings you things.”

“I thought it meant that you’re supposed to come back to Rome. You toss a coin in and that means you’ll come back.”

“One coin does,” Liam says. “But two will bring you a new romance, three will lead to marriage. At least that’s what the Internet said.”

“And the Internet is always right.”

Liam smiles at him, holding his hand out for Zayn. “So, how many coins do you want to toss in?”

Zayn looks at him and then down at the coins in his hand. He reaches out slowly, thumb stroking a copper one. He looks at it and then grabs another, tossing them both over his shoulder. Liam bites back a smile and nods, tossing his own coins.

+++

They get back to the hotel a while later, leaving Trevi Fountain and walking back. The night air is cool and Zayn has to put on Liam’s sweater to keep from shivering. They stop at a little shop on the way, grabbing Suppli and eating it on the steps outside while they watch people walk home for the night.

“Tonight was nice,” Liam says, knocking his shoulder against Zayn’s. “I had fun with you.”

“Yeah, me too. I needed it.”

“Yeah, I could tell when we were at the fountain. You looked like you were thinking pretty hard.”

“A lot on my mind,” Zayn says, sighing.

Liam nods, biting down on his bottom lip. “Anything I can help you with?”

“No, it’s fine. You did enough.” Zayn smiles at Liam, who smiles back, taking a step forward.

Zayn knows what’s going to happen before Liam has even decided what he wants to do, if anything. He takes a step forward and looks at Zayn, eyebrows raised to ask if this is okay. Zayn rests his hand on Liam’s arm, gripping him and waiting.

Liam seems to make a decision because he’s pressing into Zayn’s space, hand running from Zayn’s cheek to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

It should be perfect, handsome stranger in a foreign city kissing him, almost like the start of a great love story, one to rival all the greats of history, to rival the wonders of the city they’re in. It should, but it’s not.

Liam kisses him soft and hesitant, trying his hardest to make sure that this is what Zayn wants. Zayn tries to kiss him back to reassure him that yeah, he wants this. He does. Or he thought he did. He remembers telling Louis that he thought Liam could be something for him, even if just a vacation fling. But now he’s wondering if he ever knew what he was talking about, what he was feeling when he looked at Liam.

Liam’s nice and smart and he should be everything Zayn wants, what he probably needs in some other realm of the world. Maybe if his mother were able to choose for him. Liam’s safe, Zayn can feel it in his kiss. But that’s not the lips that have been kissing him this trip, there’s no charge.

Zayn pulls away carefully, his eyes squeezed shut to avoid Liam’s gaze as he mutters, “sorry. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. That’s on me. I thought—I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Shit,” Zayn curses, running his fingers through his hair. “I need to—“ He waves his hand and then rushes off, quickly crossing the street and rushing up the hotel stairs. He hears Liam call his name but he keeps going, too afraid of what he’s going to say.

+++

A shoe soars past Zayn’s head when he gets the door open, missing him completely and hitting the wall next to him. Louis stands on the other side of the room, red faced and angry, with his hands on his hips as he glares at Zayn.

“What the fuck was that about?” Zayn asks, kicking the shoe out of the room as he enters, shutting the door behind him. “Did you honestly just throw a fucking shoe at me?”

“You trollop,”Louis shouts, picking up another shoe and throwing it. His aim is horrible. Zayn doesn’t even have to duck or step out of the way; it misses him by several feet, slamming into the wall.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you kiss that guy. I’m guessing that’s your lobby boyfriend, the pervert asshole that’s been stalking you. I saw your tongue go down his throat from up here.”

Zayn scoffs, rolling his eyes. “If you were really paying attention then you would know that he kissed me, there was no tongue, and that I pushed him away because I wasn’t into it. Not like I thought I would be.”

“Oh, so you wanted him to kiss you.”

“I thought I did.”

Louis nods, pacing. He’s laughing madly to himself and Zayn frowns, worried as he takes off his shoes.

“You expect me to believe that you shoved him off when this entire trip you’ve been whining and crying about how badly you want him?”

“I don’t really care what you believe, I know what I did and that’s push him away because I didn’t enjoy the kiss.”

“Ha,” Louis shouts, kicking at a pair of jeans on the floor. His jeans that he hasn’t bothered to pick up since they got here. “You’ve wanted him since the day you met him, Zayn. Talked about getting under him the night you got under me. Is that why you had sex with me? So you could imagine that creep.”

“Oh fuck you, Louis. Is that what your hissy fit was about earlier, because I mentioned Liam?”

“No, fuck you. You sleep with me and then you have the nerve to come to me and talk to me about some guy that you’d rather be sleeping with. That’s a low fucking blow, even for you.”

“Even for me? What is that supposed to mean?”

Louis glares at him, shaking his head. He kicks at the jeans again and Zayn rolls his eyes. He’s not going to deal with this. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He met a guy, he liked the guy, and he had sex with Louis because he wanted to have sex with Louis. He can have sex with Louis and like Liam; it’s possible for people to have sex with and without feelings. He’s not going to be made to feel bad for what he wants. He’s just fucking not. Louis can go fuck himself for all he cares.

Zayn moves towards his bag, wanting to grab a fresh pair of boxers and pajamas. He wants a shower, wants to get away from Louis for a little while. He’s grabbing his things when he sees it, the little pair of pale purple briefs on the floor. He knows his underwear and he knows Louis’, these don’t belong to either of them.

The underwear are purple but Zayn sees red.

“Louis, where did you go when you stormed out of here?”

“What?”

Louis pales when he turns to see Zayn holding up the little briefs. They belong to a man, a man that is neither of them. “What the fuck are these?”

“Um,” Louis scratches at the back of his neck, looking around the room for an answer. “Yours?”

“Try again.”

“Mine.”

Zayn scoffs, shaking his head. “You have the fucking nerve to yell at me about some bullshit kiss,” Zayn says, stepping forward, “when you had sex with someone in our hotel room. In our bed.” He enunciates each word by hitting Louis with the briefs, whacking him repeatedly with them.

“That’s literally not what happened. At all.”

“Oh, so these blew in the window with the wind? I’m not an idiot, Louis.”

Louis runs his fingers through his hair, breathing out harshly. “I went to a bar when I left and I met some guy.”

“You pig,” Zayn says, hitting Louis with them again.

“I met him and he was hitting on me, we had a bite to eat and then we walked back here. He said he was staying here but I think it was just a ploy to get into our room. I went into the bathroom and when I came out he was naked.”

“That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. You’re a fucking liar, Louis. I’m made to feel like shit for a fucking kiss when you’ve been fucking guys in our room all night.”

“I didn’t have sex with anyone. Unlike you, I spent my night alone.”

“No, you spent your night with Mr. Purple Underwear.”

“And so what if I did? What do you care? You were pressed up against the side of a building.”

“We were standing next to the street, I wasn’t anywhere near a building.”

“It sure looked like that from up here.” Zayn rolls his eyes, grabbing his shoes off the floor. He grabs his key card and his wallet. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Out of here. The last thing I want to do is deal with you.”

He swings the hotel door open and there’s Liam, first held up in the air like he was getting ready to knock.

“I’m sorry for showing up—“

“No, it’s great that you’re here,” Louis shouts, diving over the back of the couch, rushing towards Liam. “Come on in, Liam. Make yourself at home, lord knows that’s what you’ve been doing the entire time we’ve been here, you low life.”

“I just wanted to get my jacket. It has my room key and my phone—everything in it.”

“Oh god,” Zayn groans, shrugging out of the sweater. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re wearing his fucking clothes,” Louis shouts, his voice so high that it’s fucking shrill. He picks up a shoe and Zayn smacks it out of his hand, shoving Louis away from the door. “Don’t protect him, Zayn. I’m not going to do anything. You want to share clothes; I’m going to give him some fucking clothes.”

“Is everything okay in here?” Liam asks, stepping inside.

“Liam, now really isn’t a good time.”

“No, I think it’s a perfect time. You come to shove your tongue down Zayn’s throat again?”

“I only wanted my jacket,” Liam says, holding his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused any problems for you.”

Louis scoffs and Zayn glares at him, warning him with his eyes not to do anything that’s going to embarrass him.

“No, you show up, try to steal my man, kiss him, and now you show up for more? You’re getting your ass kicked.” Louis tries to dive past Zayn and he has to shove him, trying to keep him away. Louis doesn’t know what he’s doing and Liam looks concerned, not only for his safety but Zayn’s as well.

“Louis, what’s the matter with you? You’re acting like a wild fucking animal, calm down.”

“That guy is what’s wrong with me.” Louis points to Liam and then tries to lunge again; but Zayn pushes him down onto the couch, panting from trying to keep up with Louis. He’s running on adrenaline, pure anger and Zayn’s having a hard time keeping up.

“Liam, you need to leave,” Zayn says, guiding Liam out the door. He doesn’t wait for him to say anything, doesn’t try to offer an explanation, and just closes the door in his face before he turns back to look at Louis.

They stare at each other, both of them panting from exertion. Louis’ hair is messed up, standing in different directions. Zayn shakes his head, feeling the angry surge of emotions that Louis must be feeling. He’s so mad. He wants to scream, wants to throw something, and wants to knock the expensive vase off the table.

But that’s not going to do anything, so he looks at Louis, chin tilted upwards as he says, “I regret coming on this trip with you.”

“Yeah, well. Guess that makes two of us.”

Zayn sucks his teeth and nods, rubbing at his jaw. “Yeah. It did one thing, though,” he says, watching as Louis’ eyes narrow, the fight still burning behind them, like he’s winding himself up and waiting to strike, like a rattlesnake trapped in the corner, being poked and prodded. “I’m over Perrie. And I’m over you, too.”

Zayn watches as the fire starts to die in Louis’ eyes, the fight leaving him. He stomps across the room and grabs his bag, dragging it towards the bathroom and slamming the door. Zayn staggers, leaning against the back of the couch to try and hold himself up. There’s a pressure in his chest, like someone is sitting on him, making it hard to breathe. He can feel too much and he has to close his eyes to get control of himself.

+++

Zayn elbows Louis, knocking his arm off the armrest between them. He doesn’t want anyone using it, not himself, not Louis. It’s a barrier and it needs to stay that way. There needs to be a defined space between them.

“If you hit me again, I’m going to hit the stewardess button and get your ass thrown off this airplane. We’re still in Italy, Zayn. I’d be careful. They’ll keep you back.”

“Then keep your hands to yourself,” Zayn grits out. He turns in time to smile at the woman next to him. He’ll need someone on his side if things go wrong.

After a night spent wide-awake, Louis locked in the bathroom and Zayn on the couch, they decided to check out of their hotel and exchange their tickets in for an earlier flight. They weren’t meant to leave for days but it’s for the best. Zayn’s so angry with Louis, so hurt and just so—He’s so many things. So many things that he can’t quite put his finger on, things he’s too scared to tap into.

It’s easier to be angry, to want to hit Louis and scream at him for days on end until he leaves him, leaves him in the dust and the angry memory of their friendship, of what once was.

“When we get home I’m going to change my number,” Louis says, almost conversationally. “When you get home you can forget about us being friends again. You can forget my name and everything else. That’s what you can do.” He smiles and Zayn rolls his eyes, clenching his fists at his side.

“Just stay in your seat. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t touch me.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“No, I do. I really do.”

“Then who’s going to hold your hand when we take off and you start crying?”

Zayn grits his teeth and breathes out. He’s going to take the high road; he’s going to ignore Louis. He’s not going to react. He’s not going to react. Zayn pulls his foot forward and drives it back, colliding it with Louis ankle. He smiles when Louis’ groans. Now he’s not going to react.

+++PRESENT+++

Niall takes Louis home after he does his segment, calling someone else in to take his place. Apparently his head’s not fully in it or whatever. He doesn’t care. He’s glad to be out of there, glad to be curled up in his bed with a steaming cup of tea on the table while Niall stokes his hair, listening to him—Niall would call it whining, but Louis thinks it’s something else entirely. He’s not whining, he’s scripting. He’s telling Niall the cold hard facts of his trip…with no whine. Okay, a little bit of whine.

But it’s hard not to whine, hard not to lose his cool when he thinks about what he’s lost during this trip. He didn’t just lose money and time, didn’t just lose his cool when he thought about Zayn with someone else. He’s lost his best friend. Or he might be losing his best friend; he’s not sure.

There’s a lot that he doesn’t know, like what the hell is happening in his life anymore. One minute everything was fine, then the next he lost control of himself, of his feelings, allowing old ones to resurface, ones he should have kept in check. Or maybe he should have talked about it…it’s too late now.

He can’t lose Zayn, he just can’t. There’s too much history there. He’s his best friend; his everything. Zayn is everything and he won’t lose him without a fight.

But isn’t that how he lost him in the first place? Isn’t fighting what got him here, lying in his bed with his head in his friend’s lap, trying to keep it all together.

Louis just wants it to be back to what it was, back to how they were before, when Zayn was working through his shit without any of Louis’ meddling; when Louis forgot that he was ass over tit in love with Zayn.

Whatever. He’ll figure it out. He’s not sure what he’ll figure out, himself, Zayn, their friendship. He just needs time.

+++

Time doesn’t help, not like it should have. Apparently time doesn’t heal all wounds because it’s a week later and Louis is just as bad as he was before, moping and whining. Those are all Niall’s words for it, not his. But Niall has never really known what he’s talking about before, so why start now.

“Are you ever going to get out of bed?” Niall asks and Louis groans, pulling the blankets up over his head, or he could if Bruce would lose a little weight and make it easier. “Boss wants to know when you’re planning on coming back into work.”

“Never,” Louis says, because he’s going to live here forever, in this bed. Niall will bring him noodles to keep him feed and then he’ll help take care of Bruce because Louis can’t, he’s incapable. He’ll never be able to do anything besides lie here again. It’s unfortunate, but that’s life.

“I know you don’t really want to talk about it, not unless you’re on the job, apparently. But you probably should. Or I can go to Harry’s and find out what happened, but either way, someone is talking to me.”

“Nothing happened; we just had a falling out. It happens.”

“It does but not when you’re as close as the two of you are.”

“Well, maybe we weren’t as close as we thought we were. It happens. People are friends for years and then poof, the smallest things destroy that friendship. Although, I wouldn't consider sleeping with someone and then frolicking around Rome with someone else to be a small thing. But it’s a thing. Maybe a little small, he didn’t try to kill me or anything.”

“You’re acting like he did.”

“I’m not acting like anything, Niall,” Louis says, tossing the blankets off his body so that he can sit up and glare at his friend. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something more than trying to make me feel like shit? Zayn did a pretty good job of that himself, so if you want to keep going for it, you can leave. You can leave and go to Harry’s spend all your time bothering him. See if I give a shit.”

Niall sighs and Louis continues to glare at him. He’s not going to apologize for what he just said, even if he does feel badly for it. He doesn’t want Niall to go, not really, but he needs someone on his side. Someone to tell him that he’s right and that everything will be fine without Zayn. He needs someone to lie to him.

“Have you and Zayn ever had a big fight before?”

“Not like this, no. We’ve fought but not like, not like this,” he mumbles, staring at his bedspread. He reaches his hand out and scratches behind Bruce’s ear, sighing. “Normally he would have called me by now, have joked about it over the phone.”

“Right. But all friends have fights, even the big nasty ones, the ones that hurt. The ones that make you feel like you’re going to break and fall apart,” Niall says, sitting on the bed next to Louis. “Friends hurt each other. People who love each other, hurt each other. It’s human nature. It’s like, think about your mom. You love her, right? And she loves you, more than anything, but she hurts you, sometimes without even meaning to. But that doesn’t change how much she cares for you, how she feels about you or how you feel about her. Maybe it does for that little bit of time, but not for always. That’s what’s going on with Zayn,” Niall says.

Louis continues to stare at the blankets, refusing to look up and see the conviction in Niall’s eyes. He means it and he believes it and these aren’t the lies that Louis wanted to be told. He didn’t ask for this, for the gut wrenching honesty that only Niall can provide him with.

“You can’t have the good without the bad; it doesn’t work that way. And times like this, when things feel really, really bad, it makes you appreciate the good that much more.”

Louis breathes out and thinks about it, allowing his mind and his body to absorb Niall’s words. He and Zayn love each other, in some capacity, and they have for a while, for a really long time. They’ve made each other angry; they’ve hurt each other, sometimes on purpose.

Louis can see that now, can see how so many of his actions in Rome were designed to make Zayn hurt the way that Louis was, to make him feel just an ounce of his rage, of the aching pressure in his chest.

Louis closes his eyes and breathes out, suddenly feeling embarrassed and wishing the he could eradicate Rome from his mind, from Zayn’s, from every person they saw while on that trip, make it like it never happened.

But he can’t do that; he has to fix this. He has to make it right, since he’s the one who made it wrong.

“Make me something to eat, I’m going to shower. We have to be somewhere soon,” Louis says, jumping out of bed. Niall woots behind him, cheering as Louis rushes off. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, not yet, but he’s going to do something. He can make it right. He knows that he can.

+++

Louis presses the buzzer for Harry’s apartment once, then twice, then a third time. He presses his face against the glass of the door; hoping one of the tenants might see him and let him inside.

“Kick the door down,” Niall says behind him and Louis laughs, shaking his head. He’s done enough damage. “Harry said he was home. He better not have left, that shit head. I’m going to—“

“What do the two of you want?” comes the sound of Harry’s voice and Louis jumps, pulling his face away from the glass to stare at the buzzer box.

“How did you know it was us?”

“I can hear you when I hit the speaker button, heard Niall call me a shit head.”

“Sorry,” Niall shouts and Louis waves at him, telling him to shut up, because this is about him, not anyone else.

“Whatever. So what do you want? I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I need to talk to Zayn, is he there?”

Harry sighs and Louis closes his eyes, saying a silent prayer. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Louis. Things aren’t—they’re not good and he doesn’t need you fucking with him anymore.”

“I know, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to mess anything up. I want to fix it. Please, I just need to talk to him. Can you buzz me up?”

“Louis, I just told you that’s not possible. He’s—He needs time, okay? He’ll talk to you when he wants to. Not before. You fucked this up, Louis. You don’t get to decide that they need to be better just because you’re over it. That’s not how this works.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Harry. I just want to talk to him. If he still hates me or is angry with me afterwards, that’s fine. I can take it. And I won’t bother him again, just—please. I need to talk to him. Please, even if you only bring him to the speaker. That’s fine. Just—please, Harry.”

“Louis,” Niall says softly and Louis clenches his fists, shaking his head.

“No, I need to do this, okay? I need to. I’ll lose my nerve if we wait any longer and I can’t do that,” Louis says. “Harry.”

“I get what you’re trying to do, Louis. I do, but now isn’t the time.”

“I need to tell him that I’m sorry. That’s all I want to do, Harry. I just want to tell him that I’m sorry,” Louis says. “And that I might love him, not in the way that I did before the trip, but like. Real love. More than friends love. Love love. Does that have a special name for it?

“I don’t know. I just need to talk to him, okay? I need him to know that I’m sorry and that I know that I’m not the most perfect person for Zayn, believe me, I know that. But I love him and I’m going to keep loving him, just like I always have, in whatever way that he needs me to. But he needs to know that I’m sorry and that he’s it. For me. He’s it for me, in whatever way he’ll have me. So please, Harry. Please let me up.”

Louis breathes in and waits, releasing the breath slowly. He waits and waits and waits but there’s nothing, not even Harry telling him to fuck off. There’s absolutely nothing but him, Niall, and his pride smeared across their front stoop. He’s said it all, everything that he could think to say while he was in the shower. He rests his head against the wall and tries to breathe, tries to remember what that’s like without a searing pain in his chest.

“Hey, Louis. You tried, right? You tried and that’s what’s important,” Niall says and Louis nods, releasing a shaky breath before he stands.

“Yeah. I tried.”

“Come on,” Niall says, waving him down the stairs. “We’ll head back to your place and I’ll bake you a cake or something. We’ll get piss drunk and binge on ice cream, whatever you want. Anything you want, whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

Louis continues nodding as he walks down the steps, listening to Niall talk. He feels numb knowing that he lost, knowing that he was so close but so far away. He lost Zayn. He lost Zayn and his guard dog, Harry, wouldn’t even let him try to make things better. There’s nothing he can do. Nothing besides go home and let Niall continue to pet his hair.

The door behind him buzzes, a loud sound that cuts through Louis’ thoughts. He lifts his head up, staring at Niall who’s smiling, shooting him a thumbs up. It’s all the encouragement Louis needs to run, yanking the apartment door open and flying up the stairs as fast as he can.

He halts to a stop when he sees Zayn’s halfway up, staring at him intently.

“You’re an asshole,” Zayn says and Louis nods. Yeah, he knew that one. “But then again, so am I.”

“I’m so sorry. Rome was—Rome was a disaster, it wasn’t supposed to go like that. Everything kept going wrong, one thing after another. It’s like, we couldn’t do anything right, no matter how hard we tried. Or at least I couldn’t. I shouldn’t speak for you, only for myself. And then we started, you know. And I thought, okay this is good, and then I caught feelings. Or well I didn’t catch them; I sorta had them all along. I had repressed feelings that I forgot about until we had sex.”

“You’re in love with me.”

“Yeah,” Louis admits, nodding. “Kind of always have been.”

“Even while I was with Perrie?” Louis nods. “And yet, you didn’t try to throw a shoe at her or jump over the back of a couch to fight her over me.”

“She wasn’t a hot guy in Rome.”

“But she was still in your way.”

“You were happy. I wasn’t going to fuck that up.”

“And with Liam?”

“Liam’s a creep,” Louis says dutifully. He’s never going to change his mind about that. He can feel it in his bones that he’s right about him. He’s right and he knows it.

Zayn nods, biting down on his bottom lip as he looks at Louis. Louis waits. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, just waits. He’s not good at being patient but he can do it, can do it for Zayn.

“So now what?” Zayn asks and Louis shrugs. “I mean, you’re in love with me and I…well, I didn’t always have feelings but I’ve caught them. As it turns out, I’m not as turned on by stability as I used to be. I kind of like the idea of a man who will dive over couches for me.”

“I can be that. I’ve already got some practice.” 

“I know you do,” Zayn murmurs, smiling at him.

Louis smiles back and feels himself exhale for the first time in over a week, the first time since they got gelato together and watched the strays of Rome take their naps. “Does this mean that you think you can forgive me?”

Zayn nods, smiling as he flings himself at Louis, capturing his lips in a kiss.

Nothing is perfect, nothing is even right, but he has Zayn. And while there is still so much to recover from, still more that needs to be said and talked about, they’re together again and that’s enough for now. Louis will take what he can get, what Zayn is willing to give him. And if it’s not what he wants, then he’ll wait. He’ll wait for the picture perfect storybook that Louis hopes their lives are to be.


End file.
